


Fate/Stained Knight

by MsAtomicBomb



Series: Fate/Stained Knight [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Amnesia, Multi, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 100,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAtomicBomb/pseuds/MsAtomicBomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing she remembers is blood, not even her own name. Waking up at a strange house in a 'far-off' land, Arturia cannot remember a single thing of her past life, luckily she is found just in time to be able to keep on living. With nothing but notions, she tries to piece back her life, even if she cannot tell apart reality and her memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

     It was the cold that had awoken her. She was shaking furiously and  coughing quiet loudly with the sense of the cold snow melting upon her.  Her finger tips were a bruised purple against the glowing pure white of  the snowflakes that continued to fall despite her silent protests.

     Everything was blurry—she could barely see the trees around her; they  were all just blobs of deep dark green. The cold air was harsh, not  letting her warm up, and the dress she wore was not helping her the  slightest bit. Her previously ivory skin nearly matched the blue of the  cloth that hung to her. Her limbs stung in all places, the cold simply  inviting her body to lull back to slumber. Her lids were starting to  flutter to a close but she would fight off that sleepy sense because she  could feel it in her heart that she would possibly not awaken from the  inviting slumber.

     A shadow blocked out the only source of warmth  that she felt as it cast itself upon her and she could barely make out  the words that sounded as if they were were murmured softly and gently. Then something warm was wrapped around her—taking the place of the sun—and even warmer arms lifted her from the freezing white cushions, also  awaiting for her to awaken. The person's face was blurry to her and she  could only make out a soft hue of rust orange turning into a lighter  shade right before she fell back to join the coldness that was taking  over her being.

 _Red. There was deep dark red that stained the rich white snow around them_ — _she  could easily mistaken the splatters as red rose petals; but everyone  knew that flowers never bloomed during the dead of winter. One lone  option remained_ — ** _blood_** _—and she could  not tell if it was hers or somebody else's. She could not see the other  person's face, but she noted a sword in their hands and she could also  feel the familiar weight of her own weapon. She had a reminiscence that  she was hurt but she could not tell if it was due to the icy air around  her or caused by the blade before her; what was worse was that she could  not feel where the pain originated and that was what she feared the most._

     This time  around, it was voices that had awaken her. Her eyes lazily flickered open, each action taking time and effort. She found herself in doors, as she deducted by the wooden ceiling, on a couch  of sorts; in front of a warm and sweet fireplace. She sighed.

     One of the voices sounded passive  and the other more demanding. She could not recognize the language for a  while because her mind was completely blank, anything that she tried to remember would run away from her grasp. Slowly, but surely, she began to understand what the voices were saying, the pulsing in her head told her she knew a little more than English.

     She searched for something that would  remind her of her past— _anything_ —but there wasn't a single  solid thing in her mind, only notions. Feelings of certain things but  nothing concrete. While scanning her brain, she still found nothing of substance, nothing she could hold on to; nothing to make her feel safe.

     The shuffling that resonated through the house brought her back to reality and away from the hollowness of her mind.

     "I haven't any idea of why you even care for  her." She deemed the language to be Gaelic after her brain slowly  started turning it's gears. "God only knows what she is really capable  of." The much more demanding voice boomed through the thin walls of the house.

     A grunt, "Goodness,  brother! She is half dead! It is not as if she can hold a sword at this  point." The other voice retorted, tone hinting slight sass.

     "You should never be fond of strangers. And did Aengus not tell you that bringing strangers home was not allowed?"

     "She is not a stranger..." It was a little choked, clearly a lie.

     There  was more shuffling before the aggressive voice started once more.  "Really, what is her name then? Where did you meet her? And why the hell  does she have a hole through her body?" It growled.

     "She is not trouble, I swear."

     "When  she wakes up, make sure she leaves this house." A couple of footsteps creaked the floorboards  and then she heard what seemed to be the front door open and close  before more footsteps came her way.

     Although she was still rather  dizzy, she glanced around the room really fast and noted that if she  hurried; she could grab the poker from the fireplace stand hide behind  the curtain—but the footsteps were getting closer each time she thought  of an addition to the plan. Considering it time to go through with her  plan and with adrenaline pumping through her body; she jumped from the bed, with quite a lot of pain, and did just as  she had strategically designed in her mind. With little to no noise,  she was able to reach the curtain next to the door before the door  creaked open. Footsteps were led to the couch where she had laid in  front of the fireplace and then, not even waiting for a gasp, she  emerged from the curtain and pressed the fireplace poker against the  tall male's chiseled back; the back of his heart to be more precise.

     "I see you're up." It was chuckled lightly, she could tell the passive voice had belonged to this man.

     She did not say a single word, even breathed a little less as to suppress her slight fear.

     "I would think that it would be best for you not to hold such heavy iron  in your hands for you might start bleeding again. Plus, I further suggest you do  not point this short weapon at the first Spear of Fianna." He noted  that the poker was missing from the fireplace tool set he had bought  months ago. After even more silence he took a deep breath, "Can you  understand Gaelic?...I take it you do not." He had waited quite a long  time for her reply whilst turning around cautiously and slowly; he was  able to see clouded green eyes.

     She pressed the makeshift weapon  to where his heart settled and remained in her silent and threatening  demeanor. "Do not move another inch; you move and this will stab you  through the heart." She hissed, partly from the pain in her side and  partly from the anger that filled her.

     "Oh, so you _can_ talk, and  understand." He smiled softly—almost tenderly. She did not want to look  at him in the eyes because she thought of the endless possibilities of  horrible things that he had probably done to her; but her pride got the  upper hand and made her own green eyes burn into tangerine coloured ones.

     The man was tall, possibly an entire foot taller than her, nearly  towering over her. Black hair somehow pushed back—she was not going to  lie, he was a handsome man; but he was an enemy and one _never_ falls for  the enemy.

     "Where am I?" She ignored his lighthearted comment and noted a sweet beauty mark under the male's right eye. "Where the _hell_ am I?" She was not one to use vulgar language, but the time and place lulled her.

     The  man was silent for a short while as he was immersed in thought. "A  cabin a little away from the Fianna's quarters, about a mile."

     "And where is that?" She took no time to continue the interrogation.

     "In Hibernia; if you wonder where that—"

     "Do  not dare sass me. I know where Hibernia is." She hissed loudly and  pressed the sharp object even harder against the male's chest; not yet  drawing blood because he had two layers of cloth to protect him.

     Why on earth was she in Hibernia anyways? It was insane that she had landed a  sea apart and a couple of extra hundred miles from where she thought she  belonged. The confusion hit her hard when she tried to recall where she  was actually from. Was she from Longres, as a notion pointed her to  such a conclusion?

     "Where are you from?" He asked. "Because you clearly are not from Hibernia."

     "And what makes you think that?" She lifted a brow and blinked at the man.

     He shifted the leg that he rested upon and smiled at her. "You look confused. Are you from Logres or Alba?"

     "Logres."  What on earth was she saying? Telling the enemy where she was from.  What else was she planning to do? Stab him with the poker and then  run away? Not only would she not get far but she would also be  breaking a rule of chivalry. _Chivalry_? What good has chivalry done till  now? But her mind yelled at her at the idea of breaking the rule.

     He bit his lower lip and thought for another while. "You're far from home."

     "Why am I here?"

     "I found you in the forest. You were bleeding and freezing to death, so I  tried to save you from your close encounter to death." The fire crackled  behind him and he slowly turned around to take one of the fireplace  tools in his hand.

     "Do not dare pick that up." She nearly growled as he let his fingers graze the iron rod and poked him with the weapon again.

     "You're  a knight, you would not hurt me without my being armed." He spoke  slowly as he curled his fingers around the iron and lifted it.

     "I said to put it down!" She roared and he let out a small chuckle.

     "I promise that I am not going to hurt you." She could hear his smile and  the way his lips widened. "I am only going to move the wood around  before the flame goes out and you start to feel cold again. You should  sit down at least."

     The pain that she was holding back had finally  crawled out with a greater force and she fell to the floor with a loud  and echoing yelp. He was not quick enough to catch her before she hit  the floor, which only made her cry louder. Slowly, he approached her and  wrapped a strong arm around her to lift her from the dusty wooden  ground.

     "Let go of me!" She cried, "I am royalty, I'll have you  know!" As soon as she had said it, the male let go of her waist and  looked rather confused, let alone she too was having trouble  comprehending her own words.

     "I-I" she stumbled upon herself and fell to  the couch. "I'm bleeding," she mumbled as she noted that the bandages  around her side were beginning to soak and taint a shade of red—the  exact same as the one in her dream—through an unrecognizable white  shirt. "What have you done to me?" She glared up at the male that stood  before her.

     The man looked at her as if he were about to roll his  eyes; lids half lidded and a frown on his lips. "I told you to rest and  you would not listen to me. Anyhow, I should get you a new set of  bandages." He grumbled and turned on his heel to leave the room.

     "What have you done to me? I demand to know." She pressured the question  forward as she grumbled it under her breath in utter annoyance, giving  him a twisted look of abhorrence.

     Taking a deep and long sigh, he  turned back towards her; making sure to catch her gaze. "I am a loyal  knight as well as virtuous man. I would never harm an unarmed opponent,  neither would I lay a finger on a woman without her consent. Never would  I touch one that I do not fancy," he eyed her over, "Or one that does  not like me—which is rather hard to find." It was not something he was  proud of, but thought of mentioning anyways.

     "If you so are a knight, I should at least know your name." She grunted, the wound in her side overwhelming her.

     He gave her a smile and nodded. "Of course," he began, "Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, I am as loyal as they get." He winked at her.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Author's Note~
> 
> Hello guys! I hope you are all liking it and here goes! I apologize in advance for any mistakes; I am very sorry.
> 
> Regarding Amnesia, there are many different types of Amnesia. In this story, Arturia has Post-Traumatic Amnesia; meaning she has forgotten her life. But Post-Traumatic can also be mixed and have many other amnesia categories. Arturia also has Source Amnesia, meaning she knows things but cannot place why or how she knows what she does. She has basic knowledge of things —i.e. her morals, ethics and origins, as well as instincts and occasional extra information relating to her past but not so much as to remind her of her previous life.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb

     A pot filled to the brim with snow was placed over the warm fire as he ran a  big hand through his black hair, making it messy and tossed in the  process. His lips were pursed in a straight thin line and he blinked a  couple of times—as if to remember—before taking an extra set of bandages  from a satchel that hung from the wall next to the bricked fireplace. He  glanced over at the female and smiled a little bit, appearing less  hostile. "Well, we must wait until the snow has completely melted in  order to clean your wound," he spoke and she did not say a single word.

     He kept an eye on her as he tried not to look so obvious; it was a  wonder how she had the strength to hold the iron rod without a single  cry of pain. He only figured it was because she had had years of  training and the muscles she possessed were there for a reason. There  were dark circles under her eyes and he only thought it was natural, what with  her nearly dying and passing out in the snow to probably freeze to death  if not to die from blood loss. "How are you feeling?"

     She gave him a small glare and took a deep breath for she was still in a lot of  pain. She groaned lowly as she moved her right arm and lifted her shirt a  tad bit to see the stained bandages that covered her wound. Her mind  still felt empty and she could feel it's heavy weight on her neck. She  did not like the unfamiliar feeling that she was filled with; it made  her feel weak—something she knew she hated. It was odd that she did not  remember much and what she did was still scrambled all over her mind,  like eggs in an omelet; yet her thoughts did not make much sense, unlike  food did. She felt dizzy as her mind tried its best to fill itself with  something that could make her satisfied; _answers_.

     Seeing as how the snow had melted to form water, Diarmuid had gotten a cloth from the  satchel and waited until the water would simmer in  order to properly clean the gash on her side without freezing her. After  hearing yet another groan from the female's part, he turned towards her  and stood. "Let me help you." He insisted as he took small steps  towards her, making sure not to alarm her any further.

     "I do not  need your help." She hissed past clenched teeth, trying to sound as  intimidating as humanly possible at this point. Her green eyes were  acting like sharp and dangerous emeralds; something he previously  thought he would never come across. She was clearly upset with his  presence but there was not much he could do about it; and it was  relieving that she had yet to fall on her face for him.

     He blinked  as he watched her struggle with the pain of removing the bandages from  her body with such hesitation yet lots of determination evident on her  features. "Are you certain that you do not need any help?" He asked once  again, his orange eyes trained on hers, "I insist." He added hoping  that she would give in, which he knew he should not expect so much.

     Arturia glanced up at him from the crimson tainted bandages to look at his  facial expression, wishing that it would tell her something about his  intentions. If his kind demeanour was all an act, he was a damn good  actor and she cursed herself under her breath, "Since I cannot deny the  wishes of a loyal knight," she growled as she rolled her eyes, "I only  guess I have to agree."

     He took another deep breath and blinked  down at her, "If you do not wish for me to aid you, I will not insist."  He spoke, his voice solemn and serious.

     She rolled her eyes and grunted, "It is not as if I have much of a choice anyway." She did not want to admit it, but she had to.

     Diarmuid nodded lightly and took a big and final step forward and towards her,  he knelt beside her and cautiously (and a little nervously) removed the  bandages from her wound. He could feel her eyes burning onto the top of  his head as he tried his best not to harm her or anything. The wound  itself was not all that bad from the first time he had seen it. It was  rather large, but he had managed to sew it with horse hair since it was  stronger. It was about five inches long in length, and if he had  recalled correctly; it was about an inch and a half deep. He remembered  how the blood would flow out even though nothing major had been harmed.  Now, the wound was not the slightest bit the same; there was blood  dripping, but he could see that it would be fixed with a bit more  stitching.

     "The water is boiling." The hiss had interrupted his plans and he looked up at her.

     He had not heard the bubbles that surfaced the water any sooner for he had  been engrossed on the messily stitched wound. He had only wanted to  stop the bleeding during that rushed moment and he had been rather glad  that no organs had been harmed. The knight stood from the floor and  removed the pot—of now—boiling water. Dipping the cloth inside, he  walked back to her and gave her a reassuring nod when she looked a bit  taken aback from the steam that left it.

     Shaking her head, she  looked back at her own wound; as she was disgusted by it. "You used  horse hair, correct?" She lifted her head to examine his facial features  as he had approached once more, checking if he had any ill intent for a  second time.

     With a nod he replied, "Yes," he said softly and  then caught a hold of her cold gaze, "May I?" Diarmuid knelt in front of  her again and asked for permission in order to clean her wound.

     She nodded in slight, and hesitant, approval, "You are better at sewing  than most knights." She shrugged, almost forgetting about her pain and  focusing on what the male was doing; if he even _dared_ to move in the  wrong way, she should not hesitate to end his life.

     "Thank you," he glanced at her and smiled as he gently wiped the blood from her  wound. She winced as he had made the cloth make contact with the  moderately sewed-up gash on her right side; right below her rib cage.  "The heat of the water is good for preventing illness and infections."

     "I know." She groaned in pain as he continued to clean the wound. "I am not stupid; even prostitutes know that."

     "I never meant to offend you, milady, I was only thinking that it would be  better to explain myself before you stab me with the poker and then run  away." The Irishman gave her a lopsided laugh and a joking look as he  still payed attention to cleaning the blood that remained.

     "Of course," She growled, "what knight would?" It was meant as a rude comment but her voice had not come by so harsh.

     "So, milady, do you mind telling me your name?" He raised his eyebrow, still  not looking up at her for he was trying very carefully not to harm her.

     Something  like worry washed over her, she was not so sure what it was; anxiety or  distress maybe? It made her feel uneasy as she tried her best to search  her mind for such a simple answer. Her name? It was only a few letters  put together, it should not be so hard to know. She already knew that  she was taking too long in answering the question so she just blurted  something out, "And why should I tell you?"

     "Umm," he looked up  from the wound and stared into her eyes, "well, Knights usually exchange  their names..." He wandered off with the sentence as he tried to make  the excuse.

     "That is ridiculous." She scoffed and went to cross  her arms; but refrained when she remembered that he was still cleaning  the blood.

     He took a deep breath—it was evident that he was  already getting heated over the certain conversation, "It represents a  knight's _honour_ and pride. It is a tradition a knight must keep alive;  we exchange names so that the fight is fair and just." He had been  clearly offended by what she had retorted with because his expression  had hardened and he had dropped his hand from her wound.

     "Guinevere."  She had not known where the name came from but she had just blurted it  out, as if she had known someone that had gone by the name.

     He immediately furrowed his brows after the name, "Guinevere? As Guinevere  the betrothed of Prince Arthur of Camelot?" Diarmuid had recalled that  she had said she was a royal, but why on earth would a High Princess of  Logres be in Hibernia—perhaps a failed assassination attempt?

     A short and  rapid nod, "Yes, but not the same—I am not her." Camelot? The word had a  nostalgic feel to it, but it did not ring any bells in her mind; not  that there _were_ any.

     "Well," he continued to clean and finally  finished, "as soon as this begins to heal; it would be best for you to  return home; your family must be worried." After she had not responded,  he dipped the cloth in the boiling water again and cleaned it over one  last time. "I think that I need to fix the stitching, is that alright?"

     Stitching;  it was a horrid word. A needle would make yet another hundred holes in her body only to fasten a bigger one. A shiver ran down her spine but  she gave a short nod anyway.

     "I will return in a little while;  please do not run off or lift the poker again." Diarmuid smiled a tad  bit and she rolled her eyes with extra attitude.

     Sitting still and awaiting for his return she felt a sudden urge of sleep take over her. Her vision blurred as her eyelids fluttered in hopes to close, she tried  to hold the feeling back but she was not able to.

     A scream; loud yet so distant that it sounded _silent_. Was it her scream? Was she the one calling out for her life. Was it for someone to help her? Or someone  to... get away from her? Vision still a blur, her head spun wildly as if she were drunk and someone had made her spin in rapid circles. Her legs were trying their best to run, but the snow made it hard for her. Her  head ached and although it was cold, she felt something warm emitting from her head; so warm that it began to cover her neck as it slipped  down. She was shaking a lot, her small hands were trembling with a great  force that it amazed even her. Maybe it was the warmth that dripped down her body or maybe it was her head spinning insanely  rapidly—whatever it had been made her sink to her knees and fall  forward; the snow engulfing her whole.


	3. III

     "You are doing better." There was a bright smile on the male's face, as if he was relieved to see her rapid recovery.

     She was currently sitting at the dinner table, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes trained on him. It had only been a few days since she  had awoken in the cabin and she had noted that the other male had not  returned since then. "Who was that man?" She asked, curiosity getting the best of her after she had suppressed it for many days now.

     "What man?" Diarmuid looked back from the food in front of him, waiting to see what she said before he continued preparing the meal.

     "Do not play me a fool; the _other_ man who lives here."

     "Ah," Diarmuid smiled again, "that would be my older brother; the Hound of Ulster—or Cú Chulainn."

     The young lady took a deep sigh and stretched her arms, "And where has he gone?"

     "He is with the Fianna." It was a short and quick response from the male's part.

     She rested her elbows upon the table and then her head in her hands, "And what is the Fianna doing?"

     "A hunt or something." He had shrugged.

     "And why did you not join them?"

     Diarmuid set down the knife and turned to her, "You love questions, I take it?"  He was not mad, nor was he annoyed. "I had decided to stay behind. I  thought it best to take care of an injured young woman like yourself. Now, do  not take that to heart and say that I imply you are weak. I am _not_ saying that at all. My honour as a knight limits me and when I see  someone in trouble, whether female or not, I must help them."

     She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Alright," she grumbled.

     "Look,  Lady Guin,"—she had allowed the nickname for the time being—"I am very  glad that you are going along rather well, but I feel it is our  priority, after your recovery, to return you to your family. I am sure  that your parents must be worried and your husband even more so."

     "I  am not married." She knew this because she noticed she lacked a ring  around her finger, but then again it could have been stolen whilst she  lay in the cold ground, her life slipping away from her. A chill ran  down her spine and she suddenly had felt freezing cold again, her hands and feet dropping a few degrees and cold seeping into her skin. The fire a few feet from her was not enough to keep her warm.

     She figured  he had noticed the goose-bumps that formed on her white-bruised arms  because he walked away from the food and had brought her a cloak from  his closet. "It is not the best of cloaks but it will keep you warm." He  spoke as he handed it to her.

     She had taken it after eyeing it over and then mumbled a small 'thank you' in return to assure him that  it was alright and that he could return to the food that he was making.

     "To  be quite honest, when I had brought you home, my brother did not  approve. He was furious that I had brought a stranger into the cabin and  he had scolded me for _three_ days. It was a little bit ironic that you  awoke after he had left. He had warned me that you were only going to be  trouble," the male had stopped cutting the lettuce for a short while,  "but I like visitors." He looked back at her and gave a smile.

     She  did not say anything in return; only gave a short scoff and he turned  back to the food. "We do not get much around here. Well, if we do, they  are not really friendly. I cannot recall the last time we have  had a friendly guest over."

     "It was not my choice to come, you needn't make it sound as if I am a guest." She rolled her eyes.

     Diarmuid shrugged and finally finished with the food, going on to place the  plates on the table. "Technically, you are able to leave and by your own  merits you are continuing to live in this household."

     "It is not as if I have any other place to go."

     "What about home?"

     "Home?" She tried to think of it again, what _was_ home to her? "I feel I am not wanted there anymore."

     He handed her a fork with a sweet smile on his lips, making her wonder how many girls he had been kind to. "I am sure that you are."

     "I  feel that you get a lot of stares when going into town." She thought to change the subject and bring up his looks instead. He was rather handsome but she was not one to judge a man based on his looks.

     He chuckled nervously a little bit whilst he rubbed his neck, bashful and embarrassed, "Much more than I would like." He was not meaning to sound cocky.

     She held the fork loosely in her hand, "And how many would you like?"

     "None," he replied.

     Tapping her fingers on the wooden table with the hand that was not holding the fork, she blinked at him. "Then why do you not change your looks?" She  questioned, her eyebrow raising.

     "It is not only my looks, it also has to do with a spell that was put on me. Have I already explained this to you, Lady Guin?"

     She pondered it in her mind for a while, frowning she spoke, "I do not believe so."

     "One night, a lady had knocked upon our door and wished to enter. Now, this  lady was not beautiful, nor was she young. Being the chivalrous knight I  am to behave as, I allowed her to enter and she slept by the  fireplace," he took a breath, "In the morning she had become this beautiful  lady and she asked me to marry her. I did not love her and so I declined her generous offer,  then she put a simple spell on me."

     She could not help but laugh at his story, "A spell? What kind?"

     His cheeks became a couple of shades of red darker and he looked away, hiding himself as he cleared his throat, "I  am afraid that you might laugh at me..." He slightly pouted.

     She  brought up her left hand—the one that was tapping steadily on the  table—up to her face and blinked again, "I promise not to laugh. I give  you my word." She was already amused by the mystery of the spell and she  found herself wanting to know.

     "Every woman that gazes upon me,  falls in love with me—not in real love, more as if they are enchanted  into infatuation... It is rather annoying..." She noted that he was  rubbing his forearm quite a bit, she guessed it was embarrassment.

     "I guess not every woman." She tried to make eye contact with him, seeing as how he was still looking away.

     He then looked at her, his rust orange eyes wide and his jaw a little  slacked, "Come to think of it..." He wandered as he looked upon her,  "Ha...how?" His brows were furrowed together in slight disbelief. Ever  since she awoke she had not tried to hug him or kiss him, if anything  she was rather hostile; almost running a fireplace poker through his  heart.

     Shrugging, she brought a piece of meat to her mouth, "Not  quite certain that the spell works. It might only be your imagination,"  she said simply before eating it.

     He brought his hands up in defense, letting his fork drop to the plate in the process, "I am  speaking the truth. This is the proof." His hand flew to point at the  beauty mark under his right eye.

     "Yes, I only hope you are not lying to me."

     "I  give you my word that I am not." He seemed rather defensive about it  and she really did believe him. The only reason she knew that the spell  did not work on her was because she herself was magic born.

     Letting out a chuckle, she pointed at him with the fork, "I think that you only say that to win woman over."

     He was truly flustered by now, his cheeks set ablaze with tints of red, "N-no! That is _not_ the case!"

     After having a good laugh, she gave a friendly smile—somewhat crooked because  of the pain in her side. They continued to eat in silence, she thought  it was because he was trying to regain his composure and not let his  face show his awkwardness.

     She could hear his fork picking at his food  for a while and then she heard him take a breath, "What of you? Do you  get many stares?"

     "You remind me of a little child," she giggled.

     "Pardon me?" Diarmuid finally looked up at her, "I am no child!"

     She thought about his question, she had not looked into a mirror and thus she did  not _really_ know how she looked and she guessed she was not gorgeous. In addition, the world did not know her as a woman, "No, I do not get many  stares from men; only those out of courtesy and respect."

     "Are you engaged?" He asked, finding it the only possible explanation to why she would not get stares.

     "Yes, I am," she nodded, "We are to wed during the summer."

     "What a lucky man." Diarmuid smiled and passed her the goblet of wine he had forgotten to give her.

     " _What a lucky man you are, Arthur! Princess Guinevere is_ the _most beautiful  woman in Logres... Well, Lady Morgana can be arguable too." A male with  blonde hair gave her a pat on the back as he handed her some wine._

 _The sweet aroma filled her lungs and she only wished to disappear within  it, "Gawain, I am_ not _lucky. It is an arranged marriage; it is not as if I  actually love her." She shook her head._

_Gawain, the knight before her, took a deep sigh, "Arthur, I know it is going to be  difficult for you, but you need to smile; this is your engagement  party."_

     "Lady Guin, are you alright?" Bright orange was clear a midst all the blur and she blinked so as to clear her vision.

     "Arthur," she corrected him as her vision became clearer, but he did not quite  understand what she meant by the name. Yet as soon as the name had come,  it had left and she no longer felt attached to it.

     "Arthur...  Your fiance? Are you certain that you are not the High Princess of  Logres?" Now he was beginning to think about it again; there were just  too many similarities for it to all be a coincidence.

     She shook her head, "I am not the High Princess, I am sorry to disappoint you but I am not the slightest bit her."

     Nodding,  he gave a smile, "Of course. Oh, how is your wound doing nowadays? It  has been a while since I fixed the stitching and I bet that it is still  bothering you."

     "I can live with it; I do not think it needs anymore stitching."

     "I take that you dislike stitching and needles," he chuckled, "It is okay, I will not bother you with stitching again."

     "I am not so fond of them," she sighed, "but it is not as if I am afraid of them either."

     Diarmuid  nodded again and stood after finishing his meal, only to walk over to  her to help her from her seat since she too had finished.

     "I do not need assistance." She made herself clear and then stood on her own, "But thank you."

     It had been a week and a half since she had awoken and she found herself  useless and spending her time either helping him around the house or  thinking about her past. There were certain things that would trigger  her memories, she noticed; words, sentences, smells, certain sounds, and  even objects. Yet, none of the memories she had had were of any use.

     She recalled a day where she was having a picnic with a lady, the tall grass smelling sweet and the flowers bringing colour to the world. The  sounds of the birds chirping and the groan of the horse beside her had  made her feel at peace. There was another time where she was able to see  a duel between two knights, the sound of clashing swords and the smell  of sweat filling the stadium. There was a young man that she thought was  truly important to her but she could never place a name on the face. And finally there were snip-its and small memories of the only day she  actually remembers; they day she forgot everything.


	4. IV

_It was a man. He loomed over her, unrecognizable and dark. It was not as if she could see anything concrete past the blindfold but she sensed it by the strong hands that too hold of her and they're built silhouette. He had to be a knight, it would explain why he was able to enter her quarters so easily in to start with. She was certainly not afraid of the man, never had she felt fear for the intentions of other, rather bitterness and hate. It was not as if the man would get away with her capture.  
_

_As the days slipped by, she began to have doubts; she lost count of the days she had been far from her father, from Guinevere and from her life. Of course, she still had some lingering hope that the Knights of Camelot would find her wherever she currently was. She had no idea where she could be but she remembered the many carriage rides and bumpy roads, the longs walks and restless days._

_The bricked ground made her shiver as the cold seeped into her body. She had begun to hate the darkness that the blindfold would give her, the sense of unfamiliarity._

          She awoke to dreaded darkness with a gasp, filling her lungs with much needed air. Her head felt heavy again but it had been aching this time around. Sitting up from the small bed, she let her feet touch the floor, feeling the much detested cold again. There were times when she longed to return to her past and then there were others where she felt it was best to forget. She still had not recalled faces or names—not even her very own.

          It was very dark, considering the moon was hiding from humanity. The stars were trying their best to match the brightness of the moon but were clearly failing. She stood from the bed and glanced over at the male, who lay soundly in the bed next to her; she had not mentioned her condition to him and she guessed it best that she should not tell him at all.

          Dragging her feet due to her sleepiness, she made it to the kitchen, where she poured herself a goblet of the water Diarmuid had previously prepared. For some reason she had felt afraid of the darkness that surrounded her, as if something lurked within the shadows. She felt a gaze on the back of her neck but she brushed it away when she figured it was her mind playing tricks on her.

          Alright, so what did she really know about herself? She asked herself the question as she took a quill pen from a shelf and a cloth. After lighting a candle, she began. 

          [ _ **What I know:**_ ] 

          She looked at the sentence for a while and crossed it over. 

          [ _ **What I Think I Know:**_ ] 

          That looked much more accurate. Writing down what she knew in point form, she looked upon it.

_-I am royalty._

_-I have a fiancee._

_-I am from Logres, possibly from Camelot._

_-Am I a knight?_

_-I had awoken about a three weeks ago._

_-I hate the dark, yet I am still in the dark._

_-People respect me._

_-Guinevere_

          Alright, that was absolutely nothing and it did not tell her anything about herself. It did not give her much insight on her previous life, even if it did seem like important information at first glance. So now she thought about again.

_-Blood. There was blood._

_-Dripping from me, dripping from my sword._

_-That was not my sword._

_-A sword in my hands._

_-Was I screaming?_ _I was._

_-They had wanted me dead. But why? What have I done wrong?_

_-Why would they want to hurt me?_

          Now this did not make any sense. It was not a list of what was concrete, but it was much more helpful. **Dead**. It was a frightening word, but she might as well have been because she cannot exactly remember anything about her past life. Had whoever killed her identity also believed that her body was dead too? Not bothering to officially end her life when they had the chance? Or did they think that there was too much blood for her not to be dead?

          A creak of the wooden floor boards made her jump in her seat and quickly turn around. There was a yawn and a man stumbled in while rubbing his eyes, "What are you doing up so late?" He yawned it.

          "Why are you up?" She returned the question when she noticed it was only Diarmuid.

          A stretch of his back causing it to crack, "I thought you were my brother when I heard the noise, it was not so," he walked towards her whilst rubbing the other eye, "What are you writing? A letter to you family?"

          Quickly covering the list and crumpling the cloth, she grumbled, " _Nothing_."

          "As always, I guess..." He sat down next to her, "Look, Lady Guin. I think that if there is anything that is troubling you, you should tell me. Anything that might be bothering you at all."

          "There is nothing bothering me,"

          "Then why did I find you with a hole through your side?" He had not wanted to bring up the topic but he had waited long enough, he only deemed it fair.

          There was hesitation in her eyes, and he saw it for a brief moment,but as quickly as it came, it left. The small flame of the candle danced around her features and only gave small insight on her eyes, there was so much he could do to see her true expression.

          "Someone tried to murder me." It was common for Royals nowadays, she thought little of it.

          He rubbed his neck and then licked his lips, "I figured that much," he sighed as if it was already obvious, "but why?"

          "I haven't the slightest idea. There is nothing I have done for people to wish for my head on a silver platter."

          "Are you certain?"

          "I think I know about my life more than you know."

          "I do not think the same. In fact, I believe that you know as much as I do about your own life, _Guinevere_." His tone of voice seemed a bit menacing and she tried her best to keep her eyes from widening.

          Her eyebrow quirked upwards and she squinted her eyes a tad bit, "What are you implying?"

          "Never mind," he waved his hand so as to dismiss the matter as he stood from the seat, "I am returning to bed. Go ahead and write the letter or _list_."

          She watched him leave and then she took a deep sigh; he was a bit unpredictable and she felt the need to keep an eye on him. After she heard the bed creaking whilst he lay to bed again, she turned back to the list and examined it once more. _Blood_ and _Darkness._ The only words that she felt truly described her. Blood that was shed and the Darkness that filled her.

_Whistling; sweet and calming. Lancelot sitting next to her, making the noise that soothed her muscles; her body filled with the warmth that radiated from the sun. The smell of early spring and the sounds of the birds chirping._

          Her eyes wished to flutter open to see the sun that leaked in through the windows, "Lancelot, play the tune that I love," she spoke in her sleepy state. The whistling stopped for a little bit and then it returned; no tune but rather a mimic of the birds that began to chirp outside. It was not her favourite tune but it would suffice for now.

          Yawning, she rubbed her face and stretched as she noted that a table was not the most comfortable bed, "I very much apologize. Can you please pass me the next pile of papers, I had not noticed that I fell asleep."

          The whistling stopped dead this time and she figured it was because her knight was getting her the papers. Instead, there was a platter of food in front of herself. A small loaf of bread, an egg, some more meat and a cut apple, not something she usually was served but it was cute.

          "Oh my, thank you so much, Lancelot, I am so sorry for the trouble. I bet I'm the worst Prince ever," she laughed and then yawned again as she turned to look up at the man.

          No violet hair, no violet eyes, no armour, no _Lancelot_. Confusion flooded her mind and then she looked about the house. She was not at her home.

          Rust orange eyes blinked down at her as a small smile formed on thin lips, "I am guessing Lancelot is your friend?" The dark haired male spoke.

          "Lancelot..." She was now wide awake and she let her mouth feel the name , "Was a very good friend of mine."

          " _Was_..." Diarmuid repeated the word more solemnly, "I am sorry."

          Turning back to the food she shook her head. "He is alive, I only mean to say that I do not know if he still considers me a friend, what with my disappearance and all."

          "True friends never forget about one another, whether you part or something bad happens; I am sure he is waiting for you." A smile returned to his lips and he seemed much more like himself. There was something about him, as if he knew a pain that she could never imagine, or something that he tried to keep hidden from the people he met. Then sometimes, out of the nowhere, he would be cheerful and sometimes awkward that he reminded her of a shy child trying to talk to big and scary adults.

          Nodding she gave him a small smile, "I only hope you are right," she mumbled.

          "I am right." She kept her gaze on him as he spoke and then she recalled what he had said the previous night.

          "You are a strange man, Diarmuid." She rested her head on her hand as he took a seat next to her, like he had done the night before.

          He grinned, "And you, Guinevere, are a mysterious woman."

          Laughing in return, she thought about the remark he had made; to him she probably did seem so. He did not know much about her and she also did not know much about him and not even herself. He did not even know her real name and he had found her in the forest, so how was he not to think she was mysterious? "Maybe I am, but so are you; Mister Love Curse," she laughed a little more.

          "Please, do not hold that against me," he blushed a deep red, like the sliced apple she had on her plate.

          "The red suits you," she said as she chuckled.

          Diarmuid brought a hand to cover his face, which obviously failed, "Please, Lady Guinevere."

          "Speaking of deep red things," he blushed even more at her comment and averted his gaze from hers, "Where did you get this?" She brought up the apple as it had caught her eye.

          Knowing that she had referred to the apple, he spoke, "One of the merchants that comes every now and again from Leon."

          "Ah, right, I thought as much."

          He looked upon her for a short while and then went to speak, "Lady Guinevere, can I ask you something?"

          "Yes? What is it?" She blinked at him.

          His orange eyes filled with concern and he hesitated before asking, "Did a man hurt you?"

          She furrowed her brows and moved her eyes about as to find the answer to the question. What did he exactly mean by that?

          He took a choked breath, "What I mean to say—or ask—is if you were... approached by a man?"

          With his hesitation and change of words, she noticed what it was that he had wanted to ask. Her eyes grew wide and she gulped, "Excuse me?" She was clearly offended but it was not his intent whatsoever.

          He rubbed his neck again, she was starting to hate that habit, "The reason I ask is because... well... I did not find you in the best of states and not only were you bleeding but also bruised in all sorts of places and not... fully clothed..."

          She stood from her seat a little bit rushed, "And you could not figure to tell me this sooner?" Her heart seemed to stop, "I do not _know_. I do not know what happened that day and I don't know _anything_ , but for you not to tell me? I feel a little betrayed by you."

          " _Why? Why would you do this? Please! Let me go! I have never hurt you, why are you keeping me in here? We can talk about it. If it is money you want, I think that we can make an arrangement with my father." Her voice was strained and she felt her heart heavy and aching. "Tell me!"_

 _The figure_ — _still not known to her_ — _did not say a single word. It stood still and only watched her carefully, as if enjoying the pain she was in.  
_

_She was screaming loudly, yelling at the person before her, "Please! I've done no wrong against you! Please let me go!" Begging was the only thing she could do with no strength._

          "Let me go!" She screamed loudly that it echoed around the cabin and the male quickly retracted his hands from her shoulder and waist. She stumbled away from him and stared at him with worry, and for a split second she saw dozen faces on his.

          "I am sorry." She was shaking as she tried to stand straight and brush off the memory.

          "No," he breathed, " _I_ am sorry. I made you remember something that you did not want to. I also apologise for touching you." The truth was that she had been falling and, to prevent her from the pain, he grabbed her before she hit the ground.

          Indoors...it was a prison and she wanted out. The cabin felt smaller and smaller each time she took a breath and it began to remind her of the dungeon. "The town," she heaved.

          "Pardon me?" He looked at the distressed female.

          "I want to go to town."


	5. V

          The dark blue cloak was wrapped around her securely, or so she held it that way. It was keeping her warm, yes, but it could have been doing a much better job at it. The cold wind would race through her body, making her feel as if she was not wearing a single garment on; it was much too cold out for her own good. Her neck was covered by a green scarf and the cloak's hood tried it's best to shield her face from the stinging wind. Licking her dry lips over, she kept her gaze ahead of herself.

          A huge white blanket of soft snow covered almost everything that was practically visible to the naked eye and there was but a small man-made path in between the tall dark trees. The cold and the wind caused for a slight fear to settle itself in her heart, making it tight. There was even an uneasiness in her stomach that made it twist and turn. Goodness, how she disliked the cold winter air.

          Tightening her grip around the cloak, she exhaled a warm breath and trudged through the thick snow of the forest. She was following behind Diarmuid, as he was much faster than her, and she slightly felt annoyed that he had insisted on tagging along; even though she was the one who had initiated the idea. But then again, how was she expecting to go to town without knowing where it lay on the map?

          Heaving by now, she had become exhausted and then she wandered how far the wood cabin had really been from the town. "Why is it so far away?" She asked, already starting to complain about the long walk, not characteristic of her but the time and situation deemed it fair.

          "I do not like the town's noise," Diarmuid replied as he looked back towards her. He stopped in his tracks once he noticed that she was way behind. Deciding to wait for her to catch up, he gave her a light smile.

          "Right," she nodded and blinked as she reached the male, "and you like the forest."

          "I do."

          "Hmm," she gave another nod, "I am guessing that you like to go hunting?" This was good, the somewhat familiar voice of Diarmuid kept her comfortable whilst they passed the big trees on their way to the town. If there was someone around them, two were always better than one.

          He did not look back once he faced the direction of the town. "During the summer and occasionally fall deer come by this area, and that is my favourite time to go hunting."

          Raising an eyebrow, she kept her gaze set upon him. "What about other small critters? Do you hunt rabbits and other game?"

          "Yes, when the deer emigrate. But I do not like to hunt small animals much."

          "Why? Do their scared _little_ eyes get to you?"

          "You could say so."

          The rest of walk was silent, and she thought of other conversations she could possibly start but nothing really came to her, and there was only so much she could say on her part if she were to speak about intimate things. The walk had felt long after they stopped speaking to one another but as they neared the town, the noise of the busy village filled the air and she began to feel calm again. Taking a deep breath, she soothed over her anxiety and held the cloak closer to her body.

          "Make sure to hide yourself." He gave her a warning look.

          "Why? Am I showing too much skin for you?" She rolled her eyes. It was not as if she was not fully clothed with an extra cloak around herself.

          "No," he shook his head, "I do not want people thinking that I am abusive," he joked a tad bit; the statement was supposed to warn her but also not touch upon it too brutally for her to give him another horrible look.

          "What?" Her blonde eyebrow rose to hide behind her hair.

          "The bruises." He looked at her and lifted her hood to cover her face even more, "Certain people might recognise you as well." There was a reassuring smile on his lips.

          Of course, even his smile would not be able to calm her. Once they had passed the last set of bushes and trees, they had finally made it into the village. His ' _encouraging_ ' words brought slight anxiety back and then she began to doubt her choice of coming out to the town.

          "Where would you like to go first?" He questioned as they entered the busy streets. Even if it was winter, there were still vendors out on the sides of road and carriages making their way through the town.

          Trying to see past the cloak's hood, she began, "Well... Do you need to run any errands?"

          "I do need to buy some food, but we could always go wherever you would prefer first."

          She shrugged a little as she kept looking at the people that passed them by, "I only wanted to get out of the cabin, _really_ , I am fine wherever we go..."

          "Let's go to the bakery first; I want you to try some of the cakes that they make." He gave a bright smile.

          She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips, "Who?"

          "You will see soon, I am certain you will like them and they will like you." He refrained from saying much because he wanted to keep everything a small surprise.

          "Oh, alright..." She nodded and then followed after him as he hurried off to the shop.

          Upon their arrival, she made sure to keep her hood on and avoid other people's looks. The sweet scent of berries and bread filled her lungs, it was almost as warm as the sun on her back. Taking in an even deeper breath, she could recall the taste of wine on the tip of her tongue, an arm hooked around her own and the neck of a tanned woman. Emeralds falling from her ear to her collar bone; she must have been someone very beautiful—but her face still a blur.

          "Is she bothering you, my dear?" A weak voice came from her right.

          Diarmuid chuckled and shook his head, "No," he gave a bright smile, "I brought her on my own accord. Do you have the small berry shortcakes today, Aibreann?"

          "Sadly, I do not have them today." The old lady shook her head, thinning gray hair falling from her braid. "But, there are some peach shortcakes—the ones that you love."

          "Then I would love to take four." Diarmuid nodded and reached into his cloak to take out a couple of coins, "How is your husband?" He asked as he set the money on the counter.

          "He is doing well, and your brother and the Fianna?"

          The male shrugged, "They have not returned from the training exercise."

          "Oh, you did not hear?" The old lady looked up from her pastries, "They are no longer on the Training Exercise, apparently, they were summoned by the High King to help out Camelot."

          Diarmuid furrowed his brows, he scoffed, "What?"

          "According to the rumours, the High Prince of Camelot has gone missing. With the Fianna's call, it seems it's true. The poor young man, so much potential..."

          "Camelot?" Arturia finally pitched in, seeing as Diarmuid was a little bewildered.

          "Yes, Camelot," Aibreann spoke once more as she handed the food over to the male.

          "Thank you," Diarmuid gave her a smile and took a seat by the window, he called, "Guinevere."

          Giving the old lady a nod of gratitude, she followed after him and sat in front of him, "You did not have to buy me anything."

          "Yes, I wanted you to try these pastries."

          She gave a nod as he handed her the shortcake and then bit into it. Of course it was tasty, she felt as if she was going to fall in love with such a delicious taste. The crust of the cake was just ever so slightly crunchy and the dessert itself melted in her mouth and filled her senses with the sweet aroma and taste of peach.  A soft and small smile grew on her lips and she could sense a familiar feeling.

          _"Merlin! Merlin!" She was panting loudly as she raced through the hallways of the castle, "Merlin where are you?" Her face felt tight due to the huge smile she had perched upon it. Her heart was beating fast and she was trying to keep her excitement in._

          _"Here!" He called in return and she had to stop in her tracks and turn around in order to reach the room that she heard the voice coming from. "What's wrong, Arthur?" He gave her a skeptical look as she tried to formulate a sentence._

          _"You will never believe it!" She clapped her hands._

          _"You're voice rose a couple of tones?" He raised an eyebrow at her disappointingly._

          _"Ugh!" She rolled her eyes and took his hand in hers, "Stop nagging and start running! The kitchen lady is after me!"_

          _"What? Arturia what did you do this time?"_

_Arturia laughed as she held a finger to her lips. She took out a tart from her pocket and handed it to him._

          _"You did not!" His violet eyes grew double their size in realization._

_Still laughing she managed to speak, "I ate all the peach tarts! I swear she wants my head!"_

_The two teenagers managed to leave the room and start running around the halls trying to find a safe way to exit. The loud steps and angry voice of the Kitchen Chef was starting to close them._

          _"My Goodness! She is going to catch us!" Merlin was already tired from all the running and he knew that they had turned the wrong way and into a dead end._

         _"Then we have to make sure she does not succeed," Arturia tittered and looked about the empty hallway; not even a room to save them, "I got it!" She gasped, "But you are most likely going to think I am... insane."_

_The steps and yelling were getting louder by the second, "Do we have a choice?" Merlin shrugged in a bit of anxiety._

          _"I hope you do not regret it," She shrugged and walked towards the voice, with Merlin following close behind._

          _"Not this insane!" The white-haired boy hissed when he thought about meeting the scary female._

_She turned back at the beginning of the hallway and gave her friend a daring smile, "The window." She pointed at it._

          _"Oh! Goodness no!"_

_Arturia took his hand again and she dragged him as she ran towards the window.  
_

_They crashed into the window.  
_

_They fell right through and into the pig sty with the loud shatter of broken glass. With a loud groan she stood and helped him out. "Run!" She demanded and they both ran with mud and pig waste smeared all over themselves and an aching arm on Merlin's part._

          A brighter smile formed on her lips and she sighed in nostalgia. Her friend's face; his bright violet eyes, horribly messy and long white hair and a warm smile... _Merlin_...

          "It seems to me like you want to return." Diarmuid smiled softly, "If I were you, I'd also love to return..."

          Had she said it out loud?

          "I've told you that I am not wanted there." Her smile faded and she held her usual stoic face.

          "Right," he nodded, "I apologise."

          They sat at the bakery for a while and it was not until the late afternoon that they proceeded to buying the food that they had come to the town for. While Diarmuid entered the store, she felt the need to snoop around the town a little bit. She was feeling like an animal on a leash with Diarmuid following her around and not letting her out of his sight. It was a wonder how she had convinced him to let her wait outside whilst he shopped. Diarmuid was only being protective for her own good, and she knew that, but that still did not stop her from 'loosing' him in the crowds.

          Holding the cloak close to her body, as she seemed to do often, she walked about the town a little bit and wondered where she would like to go first. It took her a while to decide, but she had settled on the pub. A drink would ease her mind and she would feel slightly better, or so she told herself.

          Entering the building, she lowered her hood and swerved around the many tables to get to the bar. The room smelled of body odour and dense liqour; it was not as if she was expecting daisies, however, the previous smell of pastries had been lingering in her mind. Due to the volume of the conversations, she felt uneasy and quite irritated but she tried not to pay attention to all the chatter. Once there, she sat herself on a stool and looked for coins within the cloak's pockets; upon feeling the silver, she set it on the counter top, "A mead," she mumbled.

          The bartender looked at her and then at the money, "Sorry sweetheart, but that is not enough. Would you like an apple?"

          "Put the remaining on Diarmuid's tab," she found an excuse. What did a lady have to do to get a drink around here?

          The male shook his head, "Not happening. He's told us not to. How many girls do you think have said the same thing?"

          There was a grunt and another two coins were set on the table. She expected to see Diarmuid rolling his eyes and giving her a disappointing look, like the boy in her memory, but she found someone else smiling down at her.

          "We all know that Diarmuid is a pain in the ass anyways." Red eyes gave her a wink and the blond male sat on the stool next to hers. For a second, she saw the blood on the snow and her weak vision, but then she came to accept the rich red. "Gilgamesh," the male greeted.

          "Uhm, Guinevere," she replied.

          "Are you sure? You hesitated there."

          "I...yes." And she did it again.

          Gilgamesh, the male next to her, chuckled and then ordered a drink for himself, "That bastard was supposed to be my _personal_ knight, but he is being ridiculous...and I do not want to hunt him down."

          She furrowed her brows and tilted her head a little bit as the drinks were placed in front of them, "Personal knight?"

          "Oh," the man looked surprised, "My name doesn't ring a bell to you?"

          She shook her head; nothing rang a bell to her and she was going to give him a look of annoyance but it was not as if he knew about her situation.

          "I am a Prince, but it seems to me as if that dog does not even care." Gilgamesh grumbled as he took a sip.

          "Dog? He does seem a lot like one though..."

          "Right?" Gilgamesh hummed, "He doesn't think so."

          "Because I am not a dog." A growl came from behind him and she turned around to see the disappointing look she was expecting.

          "Diarmuid," she greeted.

          Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and looked at Arturia, "Should we go back?" he asked patiently.

          Shaking her head she replied dryly, "No."

          "She was talking to me, Mongrel." The prince spoke as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the stool.

          Licking his lips, Diarmuid tried to shake off his anger. "Yes, Prince, forgive me." He slightly bowed.

          "Good boy! Now sit and have a drink with us." Gilgamesh patted the seat next to himself and awaited for the other male to do what he wanted.


	6. VI

          With another loud growl, Diarmuid dragged his feet over to the stool next to the irritating prince. He sat on the seat with a roll of his bright eyes. He was clearly annoyed by the male and he had wanted to simply exit the bar without a single word, but he was not able to leave without Arturia and he had a little more respect than that.

          "And what have you been up to? You have been ignoring me for the past month or so." The prince decided that it was the best time to start asking questions since he knew that Diarmuid would want to try to escape once again, "I am getting rather impatient with a dog like you. Do you not know how to obey your master?"

          "My older brother has put me in charge of something else. You already have many knights guarding you, but only I can return this young lady to her family back in Logres." Diarmuid was quick to swerve around the problem. He knew that it was hard convincing the Prince Royale of Uruk with such simple words.

          "Where is she from?" Red eyes blinked, no real expression hidden within them. _Was it not already obvious that I do not care for weak knights?_

          "Logres."

          There was a grunt from the blond's lips, "I know that much, mongrel. What stupid answer is that? Where _in_ Logres?" He continued to talk with the menacing tone of authority that made Diarmuid shift in his seat out of exasperation.

          "I would suggest asking her personally, Prince Gilgamesh." Diarmuid retorted with absolutely no sass mostly because he did not want to get used as a rug and partly because he too did not know the answer.

          Gilgamesh shrugged, "I would... if she were here," he replied and looked at the empty void where she used to sit.

          Diarmuid turned towards where he thought he would find her, but as Gilgamesh had said, she was gone. He stood up hurriedly and looked about the bar, but she was nowhere to be found. "Damn it," he huffed upon the realization that he had lost her yet again, "I told her to be careful and all she does is—"

          "Calm down, hound," Gilgamesh stood as well, landing a hand on the Knight's shoulder, "I am sure that your lover is going to be just fine. Now, all you have to do is look for her. We can split up; I will look for her in the North of the City and you in the South, is that understood?"

          Diarmuid looked at the red-eyed male and sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, maybe the irritating Prince did have some good qualities every now and again. "Alright then," he said as they both exited the bar and went their separate ways to look for the young female.

          She walked around the town, looking over her shoulder every now and then to make sure she was not being followed by any odd people. Her cloak was, once again, tightly around her and she tried her best to keep her hood on properly so that other's would not see her face.

          "It was Prince Arthur," she heard a man's voice, "He's gone missing."

          "Missing? But what would make a Prince go missing?" She heard another voice join in the conversation.

          "God only knows!" She had been intrigued by the conversation and even stepped closer to the talking men. She did not know why, but she spoke up and joined with the chatter.

          "The Prince has gone missing?" She inquired, making sure that the men could not fully see her face. She was afraid that any one of them could be the one after her.

          "Yes, my good woman, it appears so." A man spoke and then pointed on a flyer that was posted up on the board next to them. "It says so here," he added.

          She looked up and stared at the poster; she had read it over and over again, making sure that she was not mistaken.

_**My loyal citizens and dear Allies,** _

_**With regrets, We wish to inform thee that the Crowned Prince Arthur Pendragon has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Any person with details of His Highness' whereabouts is recommended to inform His Majesty at once.** _

_**Additionally, any Knight which wishes to join the Royal Search Party may do so. Any information or form of help is highly required and deeply appreciated. The reward will be decided upon the His Highness' physical and emotional condition and at the person's choice of reward.** _

_**By the Grace of God,** _

_**His Royal Majesty,** _

_**King Uther Pendragon of Camelot** _

          Attached to the flyer, there was a drawing of what looked to be the prince. Come to think of it, he looked a bit different to what she had imagined. The drawing had made him look a little _too_ odd; his features were a bit stronger than she remembered. There was something that she hated about it, but she did not need to because it was not as if it was a picture of her. _No! They have it all wrong!_

          After standing there, looking at the picture with her arms crossed and a look of exasperation over how much she hated the drawing, there was a light tap on her shoulder. She looked back and saw a tall man, black cloak over him but she could not see his face at all. For a slight second, she was surprised. His silhouette had seemed so familiar and then after a short while; it hit her. _It's him!_

          She stood shocked for mere seconds and then she felt her heart constrict and her pupils dilated. The man's gloved hand reached out and she knew she needed to run. Her brain had sent the signals; past the synapses and along the axons. With a quick tug of her right leg; she began to run down the stone paved street.

          She dared not look back as she ran. _  
_

_It was the man, it was him._

          Her feet tried their best to match her movements. It was hard for her to hurry up because of the dreaded snow. It was good that the days were getting a little warmer and the snow was beginning to decrease in both size and mass. The hood was making it hard for her too see properly, and she wanted to remove it; but she was careful in case people would begin to recognize her once again. Her heart was thumping loudly, she could even hear it in her head and she feared the dreaded thought that the man would catch up to her.

          She dared not look back, she was way too afraid of him. It was better not to know where the man was. If she ran for a little while longer, she was able to reach the forest and then she figured that she would be home free. Upon reaching the naked brush, she began to slow down to a slow jog. Her heavy breathing was causing a disturbance around the quiet forest. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm down. Maybe it was better if she would take deep breaths to even out her anxiety.

          " _Arturia_." It was echoed all around her, as if it were the trees talking to her. Her breath hitched and she began to hyper-ventilate once again. _The man found me;_ those were the only words that ran through her mind and she began to speed up. She was starting to cough out of anxiety and she looked about her. Behind her, she saw a figure; dark and tall. 

          " _Arturia_ ," the trees beckoned once more, " _Arturia, Arturia, Arturia_ ," It was like some sort of scaring chant that the entire forest was singing. The way she heard her name was haunting.

          As she ran, she was trying not to slip on the snow, but it was difficult to keep balance and with the thin layer of ice that glazed over the snow. The warm air that left her lips was left behind in visible puffs as she kept on sprinting forward. The trees around her were starting to blur out of sight and she began to panic even more. _It's happening._ She recalled the day she had been running for so long, away from a dark figure just like this one.

          It was a root that had caused for her to launch forward into a foot of snow.  A loud pained grunt erupted from her shaking form. She tried her best to stand again, but she kept slipping. Her hands were starting to burn and numb over due to the freezing snow and her heart was starting to jump to her throat, causing her a sickening feeling. She hurled the contents of the peach tarts to her right.  

          Her head was slightly spinning but she pushed herself up once more.She had almost succeeded on standing, but it was a grip on her leg that had made her cry out. It dragged her back down to the floor and past the many trees.

          Her screaming echoed through the sleeping forest and it mixed with the haunting chanting of her name. "Please!" She pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. "Please! Let me go!" She tried to sound a little assertive, but the dark figure only kept on dragging her deeper into the woods. Her blood curling screams should have been heard by the town, unless her running had displaced her from the main path.

          She tried to hold onto what ever root was sticking out from the ground or a block of ice, but her hands gained no satisfaction as she clawed at the hard and sharp snow. Her screams must have finally gotten to the figure because he had let her leg free and she was no longer being dragged, instead, she was on the floor. 

          There was snow all around her and her head was thumping. Her screaming had stopped, but the tears at the corner of her eyes began to flow and her throat ached. For the second time in a long while; she was frightened, she was full of fear. Fear caused by her anxiety and amnesia. _She was afraid of someone._

_Arturia's own screaming awoke her; she had been having nightmares for weeks now and she was beginning to get quite irritated. The dreams were mostly of death_ — _the death of her mother, a future death of her father, the many deaths of her beloved friends...and even her own death. A room splattered with blood, covered in claw marks and flesh. It was as if a murderer had done it all; killed everyone she really cared about._

 _There were other nightmares that she had of her country falling apart, her entire world being murdered and destroyed into millions of pieces._ Deep breaths, _she told herself as she remembered that it was what Merlin had told her. She needed to take a deep breath and then let it go slowly. It was a stress attack, as Merlin loved to call it._ Anxiety _._

 _It had taken her a long while to calm down, the entire night_ — _to be quite specific_ — _but upon stabilizing her breathing, she was able to feel better. Her heart had slowed down its beat and she had finally relaxed. She closed her eyes for a short while and opened them again, fearing that she would be in the midst of a field with her knights dead all around her._

          She was hyper-ventilating, her breathing uneasy as she had figured that she was under another stress attack. Her head felt as if it was spinning. A groan escaped from her mouth, but it was so soft that she thought it would not disrupt the sleeping male on the bed across from hers. For a second, she did not recall how she had returned to the cabin, but then it had all rushed back to her. He had found her on the floor and returned her so that she would rest once more.

          Diarmuid shifted over on the bed, causing it to creak, "How are you feeling?" His voice was a soft whisper, allowing her some sort of comfort. He could hear her heavy breathing, but he did not comment.

          "A little," she was already out of breath, "better."

          He sat up slowly and looked her in the eyes past the darkness, "That's good."

          "Did I wake you?" She was catching her breath again, calming down. The more he talked, the better.

          "No, I have not been able to sleep. I was worried about you," he sighed, "Guinevere, can I ask you something?" After seeing her nod of approval he phrased his following question as kindly as possible, "Who is Arturia?"

          Her green eyes grew wide at the familiar name and she gasped a little bit, "...I am."


	7. VII

          "Arturia," Diarmuid had his back to her because he had been cooking for a while now. He wanted to feel the name on his lips, see how he found it. Of course it was much easier to pronounce, even if Guinevere was a softer name.

          She turned her head towards him and blinked a couple of times, "Yes?" She mumbled as she patiently awaited a response, unsure of what he was going to say next.

          "I like it better than Guinevere." He turned back and gave her a soft smile, showing her that he was genuine. 

          She was a little amazed because he had not asked her any questions about her real name and about her fake name. He had not even touched upon the subject of what had happened in the forest and why she was feeling a bit scared for the past day.

          She only looked at him, no response left her lips because she was unsure of what to say in return, and it was a knock on the door that had made them both flinch. "I will go and answer it," Diarmuid assured her as he saw a spark of fear in her eyes, she was starting to seem different. She was a little more distressed and scared than he had seen her when she was holding a fireplace poker to his back; that fact sort of saddened him.

          Upon opening the door, he had already regretted the decision. Standing in front of him was a certain prince, his arms crossed over his chest and with a nice red velvet cloak covering him and shielding him from the cold weather, "Hello, my hound." He was clearly irritated that the disappointment leaked into his voice.

          "Prince Gilgamesh," Dairmuid gave a short bow, still acknowledging the fact that the male before him was in a higher class than himself; even if he was not Irish, "What finds your grace here? Are you having trouble with your personal knights?"

          " _Mediocre knights..._ " he rephrase, "Where is Guinevere? You found her, I am guessing..." Gilgamesh pushed past Diarmuid and entered the small cabin. " _Ugh_ , are you making potato stew?" Her wrinkled his nose at the smell of the soup.

         "Yes." Diarmuid did not comment on the Prince's childish behaviour, instead he made sure not to sound too annoyed.

          "Ah," he nodded, "I thought as much." Passing over to the kitchen, he noted that the female he was looking for was not there, but rather she was standing near the dinner table with the knight's yellow lance in hand, "Oh! Hello, Lady Guinevere," he smirked, "What are you doing holding a man's weapon?"

          "I might need to defend myself," she replied, "it is only something females must do when facing men."

          "My Prince, I advise you to not tempt her." Diarmuid wanted to let out a little chuckle but held it back.

          "She is but a female; she does not know how to handle a weapon." Gilgamesh deadpanned.

          "Maybe we should have a duel, my prince," Arturia spoke softly. She was irritated with the fact that he thought she was defenseless, but she thought it best to look innocent. "I could show you that a female is able to fight when needed."

          Gilgamesh shook his head lightly, "I apologize, Lady Guinevere, but I must decline because I do not want hurt you,"

 _I am praised for my battle skills; I dare you to try and land a blow on me,_ she yelled it in her mind, _As if I'd loose to some whimpy Prince._ "I insist," she mumbled as she held the yellow lance tighter in her hand.

          Diarmuid walked over to her, careful not to alarm her in any way. He landed a hand on the lance and gave her another soft smile, "Milady, I am sure that the Prince is much too tired to duel at this moment. Maybe another time?"

          "Oh, if it is because he is tired, then I will wait for a while longer," she inched her hand away from Diarmuid's and kept an eye on him. She had grown a little bit more comfortable around him—even finding some sort of comfort in his company—but she was still a little careful with the male's movement. "Anyway, Prince Gilgamesh, why did you come all the way out here?"

          Gilgamesh, who was currently looking at them in disgust of their friendship, smirked, "I thought you would have never asked," he chuckled, "Since I am such a kind person to the subjects of _even_ other kingdoms; I decided to help you both out. Now, get your belongings ready because we are off to Logres!"

          Arturia tilted her head and furrowed her brows, "Why?"

          He laughed at her comment and shook his head, "Why else, miss? To find your family."

          "Excuse me?" She brought a hand to her chest for she had been offended, "I am not a charity case, I can find my family on my own."

          "A charity case? I never said that you were. I am deciding to help you out of the kindness of my heart; not because I want to—"

          "Milady," Diarmuid did not want to hear an argument over something a little ridiculous, "May we speak in private?" He looked at her, eyes pleading a little bit.

          She took a deep breath, "Alright," she said as she turned around and headed for the door of the room; soon followed by Diarmuid. Upon closing the door, she looked over at him and blinked, "What is it?"

          "Arturia," he sighed, "the Prince may be a bit rough around the edges, but we kind of are in need of his funds. As much as I do not want to travel with him, we must. The Prince has gold coins, while we are lacking in money right now. If we go with him, we will be able to figure out, not only your past but your family too."

          "But I do not like him one bit," she whined as she turned towards the window.

          "As do I," he reasoned, "but I am sure you want to remember everything, yes?"

          Arturia turned back to face him, her eyes were wide and her lips were parted as she tried to find something to say in return, "W— _How_ do you know?"

          "I read what you wrote down... I had noticed that something was off, but I never commented because I figured it was a delicate subject for you..."

          She furrowed her brows in sudden anger, "And you could not tell me that you knew?" It was a breach of privacy in her eyes.

          Diarmuid was taken aback by her enraged response, "I...I did not want to alarm you. It is not as if I want a poker through my heart right now."

          She scoffed, loudly, " _Not as if_ , hah; so what now? You know everything about me and you want me to go on a month journey with someone that could be willing to hurt me if the right amount of gold coins came around?"

          "What?" He tilted his head in sudden confusion, "Are you implying that I am bought with simple shiny objects? That I would hurt you?"

          "Why else would you jump so quickly on the idea of the Prince and his funds?"

          "I only serve but one master; I am a good knight that is not bought by meaningless things. I would go to the ends of the world for my master."

          "Yes of course, because you are so loyal that you even left the prince alone." It was mostly desperation that drove her anger. Even if they had known each other for a month now, she did not fully know him and know what he was capable of.

          "The Prince? He has nothing to do with—" A grunt from his part "—Look, Arturia," he took a deep breath to calm himself, hoping that he would calm her down too. "I want to help you find your family because I am sure that they are looking for you. I have faith that we will be able to figure everything out. Now, please cooperate...I am sure that you want to return to your old life."

          "Not if someone is trying to murder me!" She hissed between clenched teeth. She was not only upset with him but with the situation she was in; yet some small comfort came with the knowledge that she could _hopefully_ confide in someone.

          Diarmuid reached out to land a hand on her shoulder in order to comfort her but refrained. "Milady Arturia," he began, "I swear upon my _honour_ that I will not allow harm to come upon you for as long as I am your knight. I am in charge of helping you, and if that means putting your well-being before of mine, then I shall do just that. I am your sword and shield; use me as you wish."

          Arturia only blinked at him, she had no words left, mostly because she was trying to calm down and the rest due to what he had said. He looked so trustworthy that it reminded her of some of her Knights. A small heartwarming smile threatened to grow upon her lips because of the sudden nostalgia that attacked her, but she stopped it. "Then be prepared to die," she mumbled and turned about to collect her things.

          "Milady?" He furrowed his brows, not quite understanding what she had said, "What do you—"

          "Well, should you not be packing, Sir Dairmuid?" She looked at him, an expression of acceptance on her face, one that he did not quite understand. She had calmed down upon the thought of her loyal knights and she hoped that he would be one.

          Diarmuid smiled lightly and took a deep breath, he was still a bit mad that she suggested his easy persuasion, but he looked past that because he did want to be a good friend of hers; whilst she found a way to remember her old friends. He went on to pack his things into a small bag and then headed for the door when he was done, "By the way; that's my shirt," he turned around and faced away from her.

          Arturia growled and hurried out of the room first, pushing past him, and Diarmuid followed behind her. Gilgamesh smirked and gave them a roll of his bright eyes, "Well, how are you feeling now? Has your red vision brightened up a bit?" He was clearly commenting on the yelling that he had heard coming from the room.

          Arturia shot him a glare, "Well, do you wish to help us peasants or not?"

          "I am sorry," Gilgamesh smiled seeing as she had changed a little bit, "Do I know you?"

          She rolled her eyes and grabbed Diarmuid's yellow lance, leaving the red one to him and exited the house, "Come on, my loyal knight," she called for him.

          Diarmuid took his red lance and hurried after her, looking back at Gilgamesh for a second. "My Prince, are you not joining us?" He asked as he left the cabin, awaiting for the royal at the door.

          Gilgamesh rolled his eyes and followed after both of them, "You are getting a little ahead of yourself, mongrel."

          After they all left the house, Diarmuid was able to lock it and hide the key where he usually did; in case his brother returned before he did. "Thank you Prince Gilgamesh, you even brought horses with you."

          "I brought Beibhinn for you," the monarch stated, his voice showing little embarrassment as Diarmuid rushed towards the white horse.

          Arturia smirked whilst she helped herself upon a brown horse. "I think that the Prince cares more about peasants than he leads on."

          "What?" Gilgamesh furrowed his brows, "What do you mean by that?" He too climbed on his own horse as Diarmuid caressed his.

          "Whatever you want it to mean, my prince." She held on to the reins of the horse and then she went on her way with the royal trailing behind her.

          "Hey! Wait for me!" Diarmuid was quick to jump on his mare and ride off after Gilgamesh and Arturia.


	8. VIII

          They had only been riding for half a day and it was a good thing that Diarmuid packed the potato stew because Arturia had gotten rather hungry half way into the day. She yielded her horse and then sighed as Gilgamesh did too, "What is it, milady?" He asked as he went on to dismount his horse and offer her help to get down from her stallion.

          "I am simply hungry," she frowned and took his help because all the running she had gone through the day before had made her side hurt. They both waited until Diarmuid was in view once again and they called out to him.

          Diarmuid slowed his horse to a complete stop and looked at the two young adults in front of him, "What happened? Are you hurting?" He asked Arturia, quite concerned over her. It was only reasonable as she had been out in the cold for hours until he was able to find her, and what if she would catch a sickness like pneumonia during this stupid trip. _We should have gone during Spring,_ he thought to himself.

          "No, I am hungry," she looked up at him. To be quite honest, she was still a little bit irritated with him and she did not want him to speak; since she was still trying to calm down.  She was not sure if she could truly trust him.

          Diarmuid blinked with a slight hint of sass, "We are almost near a village and maybe we could even stop there for the night," he spoke as he looked in the general direction of the village that he remembered, "Unless, you're much too hungry, that is."

          "I have already dismounted my horse, Sir knight, I think that we should all be able to eat here," she gave a lopsided smirk, "come on down and we shall eat."

          Diarmuid dismounted his mare with a soft sigh and tied his horse to a tree before walking off, "Where are you going?" He heard Gilgamesh call out to him.

          "Getting good fire wood," he replied as he waved his hand and went deep into the sleeping winter forest.

          Arturia had thought about the village ahead; it would have been a much safer place to eat. If the dark figure was still after her, then it would be a problem. If he came close though, Diarmuid promised to protect her; and she had to have blind trust at this point.

          After unpacking the food, Arturia and Gilgamesh settled on a fallen tree and waited for the Irishman to return with the firewood. It had taken him a long while and Gilgamesh was starting to get on Arturia's nerves. He had been talking about how horrible Diarmuid was and she was not so much as listening for she was not one to talk behind people's backs. He was currently talking about how he had felt when Diarmuid had 'abandoned' him.

          "Has Diarmuid ever done anything rude to you?" Gilgamesh asked and Arturia shook her head.

          "Not as of yet," she replied simply and then he continued to complain about the Irishman.

          "Alright, I should not have gone to get the firewood then," Diarmuid rolled his eyes and placed said wood on the empty space in front of them; one that Arturia had previously cleared.

          "You have to get the twigs; you are the hound after all," Gilgamesh retorted.

          "Was it not his brother?" Arturia furrowed her brows in confusion and then she noted that Diarmuid gave her a look a disappointment, as if telling her to stop encouraging the annoying prince.

          Gilgamesh gave a short chuckle and then finally helped Diarmuid with the fire. It took them a while to get it started but upon doing so, it had been much easier for them to cook the food and get a little bit warm. Diarmuid had insisted to continue on to the following village and Arturia agreed, mostly because she did not want to be out in the open where the mysterious man could also be. After finishing the food—with much more complaint from Gilgamesh's part—they decided to continue off towards the small village.

          "Here, milady, let me help you up," Gilgamesh was quick to offer, receiving an eye roll from Diarmuid's part and a 'thank you' from Arturia's. He took a hold of her waist and hoisted her up for her to reach the saddle's foot rest. Upon reaching it, she nodded in thanks to Gilgamesh and then they rode off.

          The sun had yet to set once they arrived and Diarmuid went off to buy some food, now that this would be the only village they would come across for days. After he had bought necessary herbs and produce, they still had time to wander about before finding the inn.

          "Well, what does the lady want to do?" Gilgamesh looked over at Arturia and gave her an encouraging smile, "We can do or buy anything you want to!"

          Arturia thought about it for a while and then looked over at Diarmuid, "I want to buy clothing; since I lack in that," she gave him a short glare.

          "Were my clothes not good enough for you?" He brought a hand over his chest as he was offended, of course not as much as he had been when she accused him of being disloyal, "I tried my best to support you,"

          "Of course not, they are men's clothing," Gilgamesh shook his head, "Come on, milady Guinevere, we'll get you some _good_ clothes," he smiled at her and then placed a hand on the small of her back in order to lead her in the direction of a clothes shop.

          The place was stuffy and it made Diarmuid even more annoyed; he was not in the mood to go shopping and he was quite upset with both of the other young adults. 

          Arturia had mumbled under her breath and then she looked about for a while, "What if I am able to pass as a man?" She asked, if she did so maybe people would respect her a little bit more.

          "I doubt you can pass as a male with such a beautiful face," Gilgamesh winked, "I think that you have to show your beauty to everyone."

          "That is your choice," Diarmuid was starting to get a little bit irritated with the way that Gilgamesh was treating Arturia. He had been not only flirting with her but also started to get a bit too comfortable with her for his own good. _It's only because I promised to protect her,_ he hissed at himself.

          "Maybe Gilgamesh is right," she shrugged, "my features are a bit too feminine; plus, who would believe that there was a man as short as me," she mumbled as she continued to look for attire that would suit a long journey across a nation and a sea.

          Gilgamesh inched closer to Diarmuid and smirked, "Isn't she beautiful?" He asked in a hushed tone.

          Diarmuid furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, "Sure." He cared little for the question as he though that it really meant nothing. She was beautiful but his opinion was not to interfere with his duties.

          "Oh, come on!" Gilgamesh huffed, "I am sure that you have at least found her a little attractive as she has been living in your house for more than a month now. Maybe you and her have—"

          "There is nothing between the Lady and I," he spoke roughly, "I am an honourable knight and I would not advance a lady without her consent and my own. I do not find her attractive the slightest bit—" _a lie_ , "—as she is my current master. And even if I did, it is not any of your concern, my prince."

          "Well then," the red-eyed male took a deep breath, a small smirk on his lips, "You surely will not mind if I take her from you?"

          "What?" Diarmuid tilted his head in a bit of confusion, "She was never mine to begin with."

          "How about this?" Arturia stopped their conversation once she had pulled out a dress from one of the racks; it was a rather simple one. The dress was light blue and there was a white coat that fell over it, "Is it good enough? Would I be able to run from a bear with this?" She spoke, "Or kill one?" Her voice had lowered and she was able to mumble the later words.

          "Uh, sure!" Gilgamesh shrugged, "It would be perfect for you."

          "What sort of question is that?" Diarmuid mumbled, "I mean, if you like it; then buy it." He was a bit more firm in his second response, he should not be questioning the thoughts of his master.

          "I'll get it then, but I have a couple of other ones that I think will work for hunting and running," she spoke as she held a couple of outfits in her hands. She had found some trousers for women and she figured that she would get some corsets for herself and a few men's tunics because they were always much more comfortable.

          "Well then, let us go pay for it then," Gilgamesh nodded as he went off to the counter, "How much would all this be?" He asked as Arturia put the clothes on the table.

 _We're on a bloody shopping spree when we should be sleeping,_ Diarmuid groaned as he saw Arturia's eyes widen at the price, as if it was not already obvious.

          "Oh," Arturia sighed, "I see." She was already starting to think what she was going to leave behind until Gilgamesh decided to speak.

          "And how much would you leave it for him?" The young prince pointed at Diarmuid and the lady at the counter immediately smiled.

          "You name the price!" She grinned and began to play with her hair and bat her eyelashes.

          "Seven silver coins!" Gilgamesh stated before Diarmuid could say anything and then landed the coins on the counter before taking the clothing and exiting the store and leaving Diarmuid with a smitten young lady.

          "Hey, hey, hey!" Diarmuid followed after him, "What are you doing, _prince_?"

          Gilgamesh raised a blond eyebrow and tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

          "If you told me that your curse could do that, well our lives would be easier by now," Arturia commented as she helped Gilgamesh with the clothing.

          "What? Excuse me, I do not use my curse to steal from people. I am an honourable knight!"

          Gilgamesh shook his head in disappointment and sighed, "Honourable knight this, honourable knight that; you say that all the time. Listen here, this is not stealing—these are benefits. You have yours," he tapped his right cheek, indicating that he meant the beauty mark Diarmuid possessed, "And I have mine," the monarch then made his coin purse cling, "See, we're much more alike than you think we are."

          Diarmuid stood bewildered as Gilgamesh began to walk towards the inn and Arturia waited for him, "What?" He could not help but growl.

          "It's alright; you are an honourable knight," Arturia mumbled as she turned around, "but right now, we cant afford to be 'honourable'." she then followed after Gilgamesh.

          He stood dumbfounded for an entire minute, one could always be honourable no matter what. It never mattered if you were poor or not; one was always able to be a good person when you wanted. He would not ever use his curse to his advantage; it is not as if he wanted such an annoying 'gift' on him anyway. In fact, if he could, he would claw it off with his own hands.


	9. IX

          Upon being ushered into the small single-bed room, all of the three young adults stared at the bed. There was tension in the air and Diarmuid immediately shot his head towards the prince, "You asked for only _one_ bed?" He hissed between clenched teeth.

           "What?" Gilgamesh furrowed his brows, "I swear I had asked for two." He then looked at the innkeeper who waited by the door with a deep glare.

          "I...I deeply apologize; I thought I had a two-bed room, but since it was such a short notice, this is all that I have for you." The innkeeper rubbed his neck in a little bit of nervousness, "The best that I could do was get one with a couch; again I apologize."

          "Well then," they all looked back towards the bed, "I guess we have to settle with this," Arturia heaved and then crossed her arms over her chest. It was obviously going to be a hard decision to make of who was going to get the bed; the argument would be settled with Arturia winning—or at least she told herself.

          They all continued to look at the bed even after the innkeeper had left for they were all trying to figure out how it would all work out; without breaking anyone's spirits. The pensive silence had been broken when Gilgamesh shrugged with a loud breath, "Well, good night then," he said as he sat on the bed and began to get ready to go to sleep, leaving Diarmuid and Arturia speechless.

          "My prince, I think that the bed should be for the lady," Diarmuid frowned at the blond and gave him a look of disappointment.

          "I am a prince—in case you have forgotten—I cannot sleep on the floor. I would assume that since I am already sleeping on a peasant bed, I should not sleep on the floor like some lower class dog." Gilgamesh crossed his arms and looked at Diarmuid, his features filled with annoyance and his posture was full of evident sass.

          "Alright, what would you believe best for all of us?" Arturia huffed, thinking of a way that she would be able to sleep comfortably on the couch at the foot of the bed or even the floor as she thought that maybe Diarmuid would not be such a gentleman when it came down to how much he valued his sleep.

          " _Although_ , I am a reasonable person," the royal spoke as he took off his gold earrings, "I know the delicacy of a woman, and so I think that it would be quite alright if you sleep on the bed next to me; of course I will not try anything and since the bed is big enough; why should there be any type of issue?" He was right; the bed was rather big and it would definitely fit the both of them with a lot more space to spare.

          "Um..." She though for a bit as she looked at the very tempting bed.

          "If anything, I will be able to protect you," he smirked and Diarmuid opened his mouth prepared to say something but it was Arturia's voice that stopped him.

          "I guess, but if you dare try anything; that yellow lance will be able to put you to sleep for certain." She could never deny a good looking bed on such a tiring day and it did not look as if they were going to get an inn for the next few weeks, "Is that understood?"

          "Yes, of course. I would wish to wake up tomorrow anyways," he sighed.

          She walked towards the other side of the mattress and sat there as the male entered the bed and faced away from her.

          Diarmuid looked at them for a while as he had begun to feel a bit annoyed, "I'm going to check on the horses," he grumbled and then walked towards the door, "You both can go ahead and sleep without me," he added before he exited the stuffy room—goodness, he really did dislike small and stuffy places.

          Arturia sat still on the bed and tried to think of what really happened _that_ day, but nothing came to her other than the familiar weight of the sword in her hands at the time. The silence was calming for a short while until she remembered the horrid silence that would invade her dungeon every night. It was then that she took note of her fear—she was scared that if she closed her eyes the figure would loom over her. 

          She laid back on the bed and tried to forget about it all and fall into deep slumber, but it would not work; the darkness was getting to her. Of course, it was her own fault for trying to remember such a horrific event, but sometimes the more she knew eased her mind because she could actually fill her head with something...but the darkness was much more threatening than the emptiness in her mind.

          The door creaked and she had to stop herself from gasping due to the sudden scare once she heard the familiar voice of Diarmuid, "Oh, look at me! I am a prince!" He mimicked Gilgamesh in a soft whisper as to not wake him, of course it was an over exaggerated mimic with a high pitch. She had immediately calmed down at the sound of his voice and she was finally able to feel a little bit at peace, at least there was something familiar in the darkness, "I get a nice bed because only _peasants_ sleep elsewhere! But not Diarmuid because he's a dog." A low growl had caused Arturia to giggle quietly but it seemed as if he had not noticed that she was awake and so she pretended to be asleep, "I would not dare give him the satisfaction of making me sleep outside." He returned to his normal voice as he dragged his feet towards the couch and Arturia had to stop herself from laughing out loud again.

          After her sudden change of attitude had calmed down, she was able to breath steadily and flutter her eyes to a close; she was still not familiar with the darkness and it caused her fear to return because it was so threatening—anything could be lurking in the shadows for all she knew. Yet the knowledge of both the men in the room made her slightly relieved. The void of black that surrounded her and allowed only limited security within it. It was not that they were men, it was only that this time around, people could hear her scream or kick.

          She tossed and turned and only the heavy breathing of the man next to her made her realize that she was accompanied by people who promised to help her if anything. Her green eyes had adjusted to the black surroundings after a while and she took note that there was really no one that waited for her to fall asleep to make their move. It was actually the creaking of the old building that made her uneasy. Every little sound made her senses heighten and she was always on guard.

          Creaks sounded as if there was weight above them and she could not stop her mind from wandering when the dark figure would appear behind the door. She knew that she would not be able to sleep, and so she sat up and looked around the dark room. She stood from the bed and walked towards the couch to check if the male was awake. Arturia held the pillow in her arms tightly and looked down at the sleeping knight. "Diarmuid," she whispered but he did not wake up and so she sat next to him.

          His breathing calmed her down more than Gilgamesh's and she begun to make herself comfortable on the love-seat. She thought about taking the blanket from Gilgamesh, but she thought it was best not to anger the Prince of Uruk. Although she was cold, she had felt much more comfortable and ended up shutting her eyelids and sleeping for a long while.

_Guinevere smiled brightly, ruby red earrings and a ruby and gold necklace adorning her pale neck. Her dress was black with red accents and she only danced around Arturia with grace. The clothing flared around her as she followed through with the required steps. The happy smile on her lips made Arturia happy as well. The young female was whistling to the tune as the other danced._

          " _Arthur! You are just lovely!" She giggled loudly and continued to dance, "You always hold dances for me and I simply adore that!" She then gave the blonde a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, my love."_

_Arturia smiled at Guinevere and nodded at her, of course the crowd that looked at them was not satisfied and had actually demanded a kiss. A prince could not upset his knights and loyal people and so Arturia leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, "You are so very welcome, my dear."_

_Guinevere began to laugh as happiness flooded her brown eyes and she twirled more and more; her chestnut brown hair getting a little messy in the process_ — _Arturia would help her with brushing it later._

          The yelling of the prince had made her eyelids flutter open and she squinted at the sudden light that invaded her eyes, the silhouette of the prince was outlined by the light as if he were a god of sorts, "What is it?" She yawned as she shut her eyes tightly and turned about on the couch so that the sun would not hit her face.

          "You cannot be taking blankets from a prince, have you any respect?" She heard his nagging voice and she could not help but groan and cover her ears with the pillow; she was not in the mood to entertain the snobby Prince, "Are you honestly being serious?"

          She waved her hand rapidly as if shooing him off, "Please, just let me sleep."

          "Guinevere! Get up, it is time for us to leave anyway, _mongrel_ ," the male huffed as he crossed his arms in annoyance, "and do not dare steal my blanket again—I froze last night." He did not sound _that_ angered, but he did sound a little upset with the female.

          Groaning as a response she sat up slowly and yawned, she swore she never took the damn blanket so why was he yelling at her—yet wrapped tightly around her was the prince's only source of warmth and another blue blanket which she recognized to be the one that Diarmuid had. Arturia brushed it off with a shrug and stretched as she got up from the couch; it had actually been surprisingly comfy.

          After much more complaining, the prince led her to the horses and helped her upon her own stallion because Diarmuid was busy with buying any last preparations that they needed. It had only taken him a while to return and once he had they were already on their way.

          Nowadays, the sun lasted a little bit longer in the sky and the days were just a tad bit warmer, also due to the fact that they were going south as well. The snow was still there and it would only take more time for it to melt but at least the winter was finally leaving and the Spring would be soon to come.

         The prince led his horse ahead of both Arturia and Diarmuid and paid little to no attention to them, unless directions were involved. At about noon, when they were all silent, Arturia had approached Diarmuid with a soft but small smile on her lips, "Thank you for the blankets."

          Diarmuid shot his head towards her and nodded, "I feared that the cold would get to your wound. In fact, how is it healing?"

          Arturia shrugged, "It could be better," she mumbled lightly, "but I am sure it will heal soon."

          "If it is bothering you, tell me and after we stop, I will check on it because it might be time to remove the horse hair."

          "Oh right, of course," she nodded wishing to wince at the sudden thought of the hair being pulled from her wound.

          The farther the horses took them, the older the day got and it was a shame that they could not reach another town by the time that the pitch black got to them. There was no light in the sky anymore, save for the moon and the stars, and thus it was time for them to set up camp. This time around, Gilgamesh went searching for dry firewood and Diarmuid and Arturia were the ones to set up the 'tent'.

          Diarmuid put the makeshift roof together, as Arturia passed him sticks and dead leaves. It was a good thing that the moon was out because then they could actually see something, but since the fire had still not been set up, they were limited to only a small field of vision.

          "Does the forest scare you?" It was the first time that he ever brought up the subject, but it was only a mumble that she could use to ignore.

          "Not really," she replied as she handed him a small stick, "I am only suspicious of it."

          "Ah... do you remember anything?"

          "... _No_ , not exactly. I only remember small things; nothing that would alarm you."

          Diarmuid nodded lightly, "You do not have to tell me everything but you can tell me if you feel comfortable; I just want to know that you are alright."

          "If I remember anything important, I will tell you."

          "Thank you," he smiled, "but never feel compelled to tell me."

          "Of course," she shrugged, "I will not tell you what you need not know." A yawn escaped her lips and she covered her mouth quickly.

          Diarmuid looked at her, "If you wish to sleep, you simply need to tell me. I'll stay up and wait for Gilgamesh and we'll start the fire."

          Arturia nodded slowly and yawned again, "Alright then, are you sure you will not need my help?"

          "No, it is quite alright."

          "Alright then, with your permission." She leaned against the tree and tried to close her eyes, but the cold would not let her and caused her teeth to begin chattering.

          "Here, have my cloak." Diarmuid began to unfasten it.

          She tilted her head, "But what about you? You are going to get cold as well," she mumbled, "but if you would prefer, we can share it."

         "Oh, if that is alright with you," he raised his eyebrow in reassurance, "thank you?"

          Arturia furrowed her brows as she did not know how to reply to his remark, but scooted over so that they could cover themselves with the cloak. She tried to find a comfortable position against the tree, but she could not rest her head properly and so she leaned against his shoulder; taking advantage of their proximity. She found comfort in the feeling of someone next to her, and thus she was able to fall asleep.

          The Irishman was left alone—well not entirely alone. His posture stiffened and he tried not to make big or sudden movements as he did not want to wake the young lady. He licked his lips in anxiousness and mentally scolded himself for his previous choice of words. What on earth was he thanking her for? It was her kindness, he deemed. For letting him use his own cloak? Oh good god, could he have been anymore stupid?

          To be quite honest, it had been a long time since he had been this close to a girl that was not head-over-heels for him; last time, there had been a curse put on him out of rage. This was actually kind of relieving for him because he did not feel so trapped—even though her hand had draped around his torso. He just did not want to wake his master and that was why he did not move; not because he did not know how to handle the situation (of which was a lie because he really did not).

          He looked at her sleeping figure and remembered his old life, _'Gráinne used to sleep exactly like this,'_ he though, _'and since then no one has had quite a hold on me.'_ The thoughts continued to run through his mind, he realized that he had never felt this nervous in any sort of confrontation with women.

 _'But she's my master,'_ he scolded himself. Yet... there was nothing wrong with finding the female next to him a little alluring, he was—after all—a man before he was a knight. He shook his head quickly, _'No, no, no, I am only a Knight...alright, if I'm going to act like this; I might as well do something to get it over with. It has been a long time since I have allowed myself to have any sort of affection, and that is why I am acting this way—clearly. Nothing more than a kiss on the head, right? It is not rude nor am I taking advantage of her, right?'_

          He did not allow himself to think against it and so he only lowered his head in order to give her a _'goodnight's kiss'_ on the head.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is actually a bit shorter than the other one, but there is a special surprise! My friend and I decided to crossover for just a couple of chapters, don't worry; there is still important stuff happening in both chapters, So if you would like to read her side of the story just check out TheeHarleyQuinn's story "This Can't Be Happening" yes, it is going to be funny and there is some things that happen on her side of the story that do not happen in mine. So Just check it out and I hope you guys like the story! Can't wait to hear how you guys like it!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~MsAtomicBomb

          Before even touching her, he thought it best to stop. He figured he would not  try anything and simply fixed his shoulder so that she would be more comfortable. His head might have been in an awkward position, but as  long as she was comfortable, he was alright with that. A sound echoed in the forest and she lifted her head quickly as she heard it.

         Arturia jumped to her feet and Diarmuid did not fail to follow suit with his  red lance at hand. "What was that?" She mumbled, her slumber had been halted and she thought about the dark figure lurking in the shadows of  the woods.

         "I am not quite certain," Diarmuid replied, suddenly wondering if she had been awake all along.

         " _Shh_ , quiet, I hear voices." A young man's voice mumbled.

         There was a loud gasp and panting, "Gray! Stop, you're scaring me!"

         "Who goes there?" The Irishman furrowed his brows but kept a steady stance; he was ready to attack if need be.

         There was a high-pitched scream and a male grunted, "Is this really the time to be doing this?"

          Two  people emerged from the depths of the woods, a shirtless young man with black hair and a female with rather revealing clothing for such a cold evening, "Uh...hi," the man greeted and Diarmuid shifted his spear a little bit, "Whoa! Watch where you point that thing! We don't mean any  danger."

          Diarmuid held the lance tighter as he thought it was some sort of distraction, "Excuse me?"

          "Uh I said can you lower your spear," Gray, the man, paused, "friend?" He kept his eyes on the weapon.

          "Why are you here?" Arturia pitched in, she had not been able to find the yellow lance and so she had grabbed a stick and pretended she had a weapon of her own.

          The other blonde female looked her over,  "Sorry, we did not mean to scare you, we just thought this clearing  would make a good resting spot," she smiled trying to defuse the  tension.

          "Um," Arturia looked down, "Why exactly?" Her question  brought about slight defensiveness and made the other two young adults a little uncomfortable.

          Lucy squeezed her hands together and laughed off the awkwardness in the air, "Ha, well I'm Lucy, and this is Gray." She pointed at the male, "We are travelling to a near-by town  that needs our help."

          "And what about you guys?" Gray asked as he analyzed the intricate patterns that the lance possessed, duly noting the inscriptions near the tip.

          Arturia landed a hand on Diarmuid's spear and nodded at him; a simple gesture that he understood as the fact the she did not feel afraid. "We are also travelling to a town..." she  mumbled.

          Gray crossed his arms seeing as how Diarmuid had lowered his spear.

          "My name is Guinevere and this is my knight, Diarmuid."

          "Guinevere! Pleasure to meet you." Lucy chimed, a bright smile on her lips as she extended her hand.

          Arturia nodded at her and shook her hand, "You said you were tired and needed a place to rest, no?"

          "Yes, if that's okay."

          "You are welcomed to spend the night with Diarmuid, Gilgamesh and I ; this is the only clearing that we've seen for a long while." She offered.

          "There's another?" Gray caught on to the second name, "Where is he?"

          "Gilgamesh is gathering firewood, he should be back any second," Diarmuid replied, he was not very fond of the two people but he figured he would respect  his master's wishes.

          As if on cue, from the woods emerged a tall figure, "Well, I was only able to find one clean looking stick because  the rest were too filthy for the likes of a prince," the cocky voice  declared, "Who are these people?" His crimson red gaze finally settled  upon the new members.

          "One stick? _Seriously_?" Diarmuid could not help but scoff.

          "Pardon!" Gilgamesh called, "Princes do not regularly go looking for firewood; that is the servant's job."

          "Then why did you believe it a bright idea to offer? Never you mind, I will get the firewood," Arturia stood with a yawn, "since someone is being unco-operative."

          Diarmuid stood up as well and followed her to the edge of the forest as if he  were a lost puppy, "You cannot go alone," he mumbled as she was ready to  enter the deep darkness.

          "Wait with the others, I will return." She looked back at him with a reassuring smile, "Plus, I have your lance."

          Her smile dropped as she turned her head back to the forest. The complete  and utter darkness that lay a couple of feet in front of her was  menacing, but she had faith in herself to be able to ward off any evil beings. She did not know what the darkness held but she hoped  it was something that she could fight.

          "But—"

          "Diarmuid, I am only getting firewood." She interrupted him as she entered the depths of the forest.

          "Milady!" He called out.

          She snapped her head towards him, the worry was evident on his facial features but she did not feel for him, "Diarmuid, listen to your master and wait." Her tone was strict and she had her eyes a little squinted  into slits so that he would obey her.

          He nodded hesitantly, "Yes, milady," he mumbled as he pivoted on his heel and proceeded to leave.

         Arturia continued into the forest, the yellow lance held tightly in her right  hand while she kept an eye on her surroundings. Her green eyes adjusted after a short while and she searched for sticks and twigs that looked worthy of serving as firewood. Her arms were beginning to get tired and she thought about the last time  she had held wood in her hands.

          " _Here, let me help you, my  king," Lancelot smiled as he took the sticks from her arms, "Only  subjects carry the firewood; not princes like yourself." His hair was left  loose to hang past his shoulders, and the light of the sun filtered  through the leaves to make his grey eyes glint._

          _She  laughed loudly as she pulled him down to give him a soft and warm kiss on the lips, "I...I have to be an example." She gave him a wink._

          _The tall man blushed and averted his gaze as the female took half the pile in her hands again, "My prince," he gulped._

         " _What  is it this time?" She rolled her eyes, he would always make excuses for her not to kiss him, " If I recall correctly, there is no one around; do you not remember that we came alone?"_

         _He coughed a little anxiously, as if he had choked, "I am only a bit embarrassed, that is all." That sentence made her giggle out  loud as she nudged his arms and walked a little faster._

          _They  had returned to the small clearing and set the firewood down. The chirping of the birds and the warmth of the sun made her smile as she took the male's hand in hers. It was a beautiful day to go camping and  since she had only brought her most trusted knight along, it was an even more beautiful day._

          _The sun begun to set and it cast all sorts of shadows. He held her hand a little tighter, as if checking to see if she was actually there with him, as if somehow this was a dream and she was not real, "I'm here," she mumbled knowing much too well of his insecurity._

         " _I know," he whispered, more to himself, "I know."_

          _She  leaned up and kissed his cheek, he was the only knight that she could  trust with her true self, and she was scared that she would one day loose him too. Her heart beat a little faster as she kept her eyes on Lancelot and she leaned her head against his shoulder._

          _"I love you." She heard him past the whispering  of the leaves and the singing the birds made every now and again and then she felt a kiss upon her head._

         "Lancelot..."  Her voice was strained and she blinked the blurriness away. He was gone  and she did not even know how, but she felt it deep in her heart that  he would not be there waiting for her when she returned and it caused her stomach to turn.

         Once she was sure that there was no trace of  the tears that weld in her eyes, she walked back to the clearing,  remembering which trees she had passed, but she seemed to have gotten a  little lost and she rounded some trees more than once. The darkness was  starting to call out to her and she closed her eyes as to rid herself  from any frightening thoughts.

          _She coughed and coughed, her ribs were bruised and it caused her pain even to breathe. There was no sun and no fresh air, she felt trapped. The cold shackles on her wrists made her shiver and now she had felt more and more weak by the  second. A dark figure entered the dungeon room and looked at her.  Arturia glanced up and took a deep and shaky breath, "Just let me go."_

         She  looked down and tried to forget the dark menacing figure that loomed over her; it was simply a dream that she would forget, it never actually  happened...or at least she told herself. It sent shivers down her spine  and she shook her head roughly, hoping to send those thoughts flying  out.

          She wondered about the forest with the pile of wood in her hands  for a longer while. Upon coming closer to the voices she took a sigh of  relief and exited the thick forest. She was careful not to trip over any  roots that may have been sticking out, as she made her way through the  evergreen underbrush.

         "Milady," Diarmuid stood quickly and met her halfway. "Here, let me help you," he smiled softly as he took the pile of sticks from her arms gently. The smile on his face reminded her of  Lancelot and of all those friendly people in her old life. Faces flashed  through his and for a second she saw Lancelot, and she wanted to bring him into a tight hug and simply keep him close to herself. 

          Her mind finally caught on to his words and her eyes widened. As soon as he had taken the firewood from her arms, she stepped back and stood still,  as if she was frozen in place. Diarmuid had not noticed and he only  walked towards the others, letting down the sticks in order to start the  fire.

         There were many feelings in her heart at the given moment.  She felt as if she was filled with melancholy and remorse, but she also  felt love and some sort of happiness. It was so strange that only a few  words and a small smile could make her feel many different and odd  emotions that she had never felt all at once.


	11. XI

 

     Her jaw had slacked and she was surprised and taken aback by how he had sounded so much like Lancelot. Her heart had raced a little bit, but it was out of being quite frightened rather than anything else. She was blinking, hopeful to find and explanation to his tone and words, but she could not find it.

     "Is everything alright?" The high-pitched voice of Lucy called out as Diarmuid refrained from shooting his head towards Arturia. The female immediately shook her head as if to rid herself of the astonishment.

     "Uh...yes, everything is fine." She nodded quickly whilst she walked towards them. She sat down next to Gilgamesh on the fallen tree and watched as Diarmuid worked hard to start the fire. His strong built reminded her of her trusted knight and she had to close her eyes tightly to stop her mind from wandering.

     "So you're looking for your family, huh?" Gray figured it was best to ask, in order to start a conversation.

     Arturia glanced at the man and then proceeded to nod slowly, "Yes, something like that," she mumbled under her breath as she rubbed her face in exhaustion.

     "Oh," he nodded, "then you must be excited to see them again."

     She was not in the mood of making conversation or even speaking at that, and thus she only made a small sound of half-hearted approval, "Hm."

     "Guinevere is only tired," Gilgamesh decided to make an excuse on the lady's unsociable behaviour, "We have been traveling for a long time and she feels a bit hopeless, that is all, right milady?" He looked over at her and awaited for her short response, hoping she would not let him down.

     Arturia slowly nodded again and watched as the fire emerged from Diarmuid's hard work, "Thank you," she murmured towards him, not really paying attention to Gilgamesh or Gray. The flame began to grow and the light danced around them.

     They had continued to talk about life and adventures around the fire until Arturia had fallen asleep on the log and they figured it would be best to go to sleep. Diarmuid slowly woke up the young woman, hoping not to anger her, and walked her over to the makeshift bed where they had laid out all the blankets that they owned. It was not much but it was comfortable enough.

     Lucy offered to sleep next to Arturia and since it was already decided that Diarmuid and Gray would stay awake to keep watch, just in case anything happened while the others slept, they all went to sleep. It was late in the night and the warmth that Lucy cast upon Arturia had made her sleep easily, much more easier than she had slept in the Cabin, and a little more than she did when she was next to Diarmuid; it was the sense of security now that there was more people to guard her and keep her far from anything that wanted to harm her.

     Diarmuid watched as Arturia fell asleep and he then took a deep breath, it was good that she seemed to be sleeping without a worry but the face she had when she returned from the forest made him a little bit anxious. Something had happened in the woods and he wanted to know if she was doing okay, if she was alright.

     "She's okay." Gray poked at the fire to keep it burning.

     Diarmuid looked over at the other man and nodded, "Yes, I know," he spoke lowly, as if to assure himself as well. He furrowed his brows, "I know that she is my master and she is not obliged to tell me everything; but she cannot be coming back with such an expression on her face and expect me not to worry over her, especially when she does not tell me a single thing. As her knight, I am called to care for her, so I guess this is normal, right?"

     Rolling his eyes a little bit and letting out a small scoff, Gray began, "You don't make caring for her a secret. I may not understand this master-servant relationship, but she is still as human as you are. That makes you her equal. When Lucy first joined the guild she was a pain; bossy, she whined and cried, plus, she was completely inexperienced. She always wanted her way and most of the time, she got it; but when push came to shove she would take an order. The time that I have spent with her, has allowed me to understand her and now I can't remember how I survived without her hope and perseverance."

     The Irishman nodded, "Alright, I see what you are getting at, but," he blushed, "Art-Guinevere and I are far from a small lovers' quarrel." A small yelp escaped Gray's lips, causing Diarmuid to snap back from his short daze, "Are you alright?"

     Gray turned to Diarmuid, his face flushed as he sucked on his thumb due to the small burn he had received after dropping the makeshift poker into the fire, "Yeah. It is just that Lucy and I aren't lovers."

     "Well then, I kind of thought that was something she knew, you both looked very comfortable with one another," Diarmuid rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hold back a small laugh as he recalled that their first encounter was seeing him shirt-less as Lucy followed behind carrying said shirt.

     Gray lifted and eyebrow and tugged on the collar of his shirt, "You're not talking about the whole stripping thing, are you?"

     Diarmuid could not help but laugh, stirring the sleeping females, he bit his lip and through chuckles he managed, "Well, I must say, that was quite the entrance."

     Gray nudged Diarmuid playfully and shook his head, "That's a whole different story, for another day. Lucy, like many other of my friends, has learned to just ignore that part of me." Gray smiled at the Irishman.

     "But seriously just try to ask her, it's like planning out a battle strategy, sometimes you have to approach the situation from a different angle."

     "Yeah I guess," For argument's sake, Diarmuid agreed with his newfound friend.

     Arturia would not tell him something that she knew would worry him or something she thought was not important; but everything was important to him. She was his master and it was so _very_ important for him to understand her struggles and her pains because he needed to protect her from all that sorrow. He wanted to help her in any way possible but that would mean that she fully needed to trust him and he knew that right now she did not want to blindly trust a foreign man.

     "If all else fails, just wait for her. She's bound to tell you something sooner or later."

_Her hands reached for the sword that was discarded on the floor, crawling on the snow was much harder than she had initially thought. Scrambling from the snow, she took a loose hold of the sword and turned towards the dark figure. The weight of it caused her shoulders excruciating pain, as she was on the verge of death; her body surviving on what itself had to offer. The cold caused her fingers to burn and turn a bright red. Her mind was taking forever to work and she finally gripped the sword tighter, afraid that it would fall out of her hands. She launched forward, using the weight of the weapon to guide her, but her blow was deflected easily._

_The figure clashed swords with her and pushed her back with their own weapon, "Just stop it. It is useless; you have to die," she detected defeat in the person's voice. There was some sort of depression that it held, deep within a menacing tone._

_She looked at them, but she did not know why she could not see their face. It was there, she knew that it was someone, even if she was weak she saw them...but there was no face. No features in the empty spot that would allow her to identify them. She launched forward with whatever strength she had left, but as she did, she felt a stinging pain in her side as a gasp entered her chapped lips. Her eyes drifted from the faceless figure to the sword that had stabbed through her. She saw the blood making small rivers and creaks down the sharp weapon and she followed it to the hands of the person before her, "Why?" She whispered as she slowly looked up at them._

_The person was silent as they drew the sword from her body and sniffed due to the cold air._

_She fell to the floor, her loud breaths leaving puffs of warm air in the freezing wintry forest, "Why?" Her vision began to blur as she joined the cold snow, "I trusted you...why?"_

_But before her vision went black, she heard the words,"Because, you had to die."_

     She shot up as the air filled her lungs in a fast gasp, beads of sweat glistening down her forehead. Her gasp caused a coughing fit and this made her side ache again leading her to cringe in pain. _"Because, you had to die."_ The words echoed in her mind, filling all the empty space it had due to her amnesia. She nearly screamed because it was all she could hear, the desperation taking over her body. Her hands were shaking as Lucy awoke.

     There was a sudden gentle grip on her hand and she shot her head to look at Lucy, ready to fight off anyone, "It's alright, you're safe." Lucy looked at her with a compassionate face, her eyes half-lidded as she was still a bit sleep-driven.

     Arturia's shaking slowed down and she took a deep breath, a panic attack, it was a simple panic attack. Merlin would always give her tea after something so vivid, but he was not there to comfort her, "I'm shaking..." she noticed the twitching of her muscles.

     "Nightmare?" Lucy silently questioned, "Gray," she then turned her head and called out to the male that was still on watch.

    "No, I'm fine, as you said; it was only a-"

    "Can you all be quiet," there was a loud groan from the man next to them, "Some people are trying to sleep."

     Lucy turned around and slapped the man's shoulder, "Could you be any more inconsiderate?" She questioned, starting the bickering between the two of them.

     "Milady! Is everything alright?" Diarmuid had gotten there faster than Gray and he looked down at his master with worry.

     Arturia looked up at him and slowly nodded, "I am fine, do not make a big commotion out of it," she gathered all her strength to stand, as the dream had caused her slight dizziness, "Is it not time to switch watches anyway?" She carefully hid her trembling hands from the male before her and blinked.

    She could see that Diarmuid bit back a remark as Gray had reached them-he had been in no hurry at all—and simply nodded at her, "We had already agreed that Gray and I would stay up the entire night."

    She shook her head, "So you could faint in the midday? That is not needed. I will stay up."

    "Count me in," Lucy smiled, leaving Gilgamesh to himself, "I think it's time for the boys to rest, and the girls to have some fun."

     "But milady—"

     The face that she gave him was a little menacing because he shut his mouth and nodded. Her eyes were turned to small slits and her lips were pursed together in a small frown, "Go to sleep, you need the rest."

     After taking a deep breath of defeat, he nodded slowly, "Yes, milady."

     "Aye Captain," Gray chipped in and Arturia blushed upon hearing the play on her choice of tone. She felt embarrassed that she sounded more like a mother and not a master.

     Both Gray and Diarmuid took the females' places and tried to go to bed, whilst Lucy and Arturia took over the fire; Arturia's shaking already gone. There was still the sensation of the pain that overtook her, but she tried not to think about it. Yet, the closer she would get to Logres, the scarier it got for her because she knew that there was a person who tried to kill her. A person wanted to rob her of her life and she wondered what she had done for such betrayal.

     "Is everything alright? Maybe you want to talk about it?" Lucy blinked her light brown orbs in Arturia's direction.

     Arturia shook her head in denial, "No, I'm fine."

     Lucy yawned in response as she stretched, "Okay then! Let's get to work," she stirred the fire in order to keep it moving. There was a grunt and Lucy laughed, "He's something else, huh?" She referred to Gilgamesh.

      "Yes," Arturia nodded, "He is."

      "He looks like he's something bathed in gold; only caring about the money or just simply being snobby and picky. I wonder how you deal with him?"

     "From what I know, he is a little cheap, and he is also a brat. But I guess he has his good qualities sometimes."

     Lucy groaned, "He kind of reminds me of my father; I bet they'd get along fine. If I had stayed, I would have probably ended up like that; good thing that Princess life isn't for me."

     "Princess? You're a princess?" She furrowed her brows and tilted her head.

     Lucy took a deep sigh and nodded, "It's a long story and it's not who I am anymore."

     "Oh, I see, I understand." Arturia gave a short nod and a weak smile.

     Stirring the fire once more, the Fairy Tail member shrugged and rubbed her legs to keep them warm, "What about your pet over there?"

     There was short silence as Arturia tried to understand the question, "Excuse me?" She was still unsure of what the girl was meaning, so she thought it best to not mistaken her.

     "The whole servant-master ordeal with Diarmuid. To me, it seems you're a bit harsh on him, and he always seems like a lost puppy without you; hence the 'pet'."

     "What? Diarmuid is also a pain on his own," Arturia shook her head, "he is quite persistent. It's a bit annoying sometimes; he won't take no for an answer."

     "Persistent? I think it is just him caring for you," Lucy tried to point out his concern.

     "Caring for me?" She looked at Lucy intently, "It is not caring if he questions me about simple things."

     "It is so," Lucy giggled, "wow, you guys are cute."

     "Cute?"

     "The obliviousness and innocence I guess; well, I hope it works out for you guys," she grinned.

     "Um...I guess?" Arturia furrowed her brows, not fully understanding the statement.

     During the early hours, before the sun would rise, Lucy and Gilgamesh had switched watches because Gilgamesh had said something about ladies having to sleep, or something very stupid. But Lucy would not decline an offer to sleep, so she agreed and went well on her way.

     Gilgamesh sat cross-legged by the fire, taking a deep breath of the fresh air around him. He rubbed his face in order to wake himself a bit more and coughed. He took a handful of snow and played with it for a long while.

     The sky had begun to brighten up, the colours beginning to show the signs of the sun arriving. Gilgamesh stood from the floor and unpacked a pot, filling it with snow, and placing it near the fire. He then also unpacked some of the food, that they had brought along, and began to cook it.

     Arturia watched him intently, almost surprised by his actions. He was not following her around, and trying to hold her hand, instead he was doing chores and helping out with regular day-to-day activities. And what astonished her the most was that he was not complaining about anything at all. She cracked a small smile and watched as he began to cook the food.

     "We're still a long way from Logres," Gilgamesh murmured over the fire, roasting the food on a simple stick and occasionally stirring the melting snow; he kept his eyes on the fire at all times.

     She nodded slowly, "Yes, I know." The flames of the small fire were very soothing to watch, as they looked like they would disappear into thin air.

     "I do not know the details, as I see you trust Diarmuid more than me, but there is no reason to be afraid to return. Sometimes it is hard to face reality, I admit," he rubbed the back of his neck, "but running away won't solve a single thing. It never does."

     Arturia blinked and glanced over at him, "Is this advice for me, or for yourself?" She asked as she turned back to the fire.

     Gilgamesh did not say anything as he stirred the snow again, he licked his lips and nodded, "For us both."

     She blinked a couple of times and closed her eyes, "Right, I guess that goes for almost everyone here," she gave a halfhearted chuckle.

     He did not reply as he was looking up at the sky, its colours turning more red with every passing second, "I like the sunrise," he spoke in the softest tone she had ever heard from him, "It reminds me of Uruk."

     "Uruk must be beautiful."

     "It is."

     Arturia closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the sun as it illuminated the sleeping forest; Warmth and Light, two things she loved. She took a breath of soft cold air and she smiled softly, "And why are you in Hibernia?" She mumbled past her warm smile.

     She heard him take a deep breath and more stirring before he put all the food down, "Diplomatic Relations. My Father the King, wanted me to represent the country as I came to ask for an Alliance; I know that Uruk and Hibernia are far from one another but my father the King wants to have an alliance with someone from Europe because he plans to have territory here."

     "Oh," she nodded, "but you've been here for a while."

     "After discussing an Alliance, there was no answer from the High King's part, so I was told to wait. Of course it made me very impatient, but Diarmuid got my mind off that and we went hunting or to the bar—more like I dragged him along—but my Father the King told me I could not return without a yes. And now the Fianna is looking for that stupid missing Prince and the High King does not want to deal with countries too far from him when the one next to him is in turmoil."

     "Does the High King like Camelot?" Arturia finally opened her eyes, looking at the beautiful rising sun.

     "You would have to ask Diarmuid. I would say he is either in love with Camelot, or he wants a chance to take it for himself." His eyes flickered over to her and then he checked on the water that was previously snow, "Well, it is time to eat and get moving. Would you like to go wake them up, or should I do it?"

     Arturia licked her lips and stood, "I'll go wake them," she nodded as she made her way to where they slept.

     "Do not be afraid of Logres," he mumbled lightly but she was able to hear him.

    "I won't be, Thank you."

    Upon reaching them, she bent down and shook Diarmuid gently. Her hand was steady on his shoulder and she griped it a little tighter, then she shook him again, "We have to get moving," she mumbled.

    The male groaned and hid his face from the light of the sun with an arm. He shifted a bit and sighed as he prepared to go back to sleep.

    "Come on, Diarmuid, there is food prepared." She pressed on his chest and smiled down at him, "We have to go soon too."

    Diarmuid grumbled again and turned about, pulling away from her touch. He hummed as he tried to go to sleep again.

    Arturia sat down next to him and sighed, "Alright then," she nodded. She then began to clap rather loudly, hoping to wake them all up because she was too lazy to wake them up one by one. She succeeded in waking up the sleeping Fairy Tail members, but not the man next to her.

    She let out a squeak once the male next to her pulled her down, "Shh, people are sleeping," his voice was husky and sleep-driven. His eyes half open and a finger against his lips.

    She admitted that he was warm, so she laid still next to him for just a tad bit. Her eyes had threatened to shut more than once but her sleepy notion disappeared once she felt the sharp pain of her wound. She had not noticed, but his elbow had been pressing on it for a long while now and so she moved it and sat up. She shook him rougher and grumbled, "Wake up, you have to take off the horse hair now."

    His eyes fluttered open and he yawned, "The sun's already up?" he mumbled as he saw her next to him.

    "It has been up for almost half an hour now, but you wouldn't wake up."

    "Oh," he stretched as he brought himself up to a slouching position, "right." He rubbed his eyes and looked over at the other sleeping figures, but they had been up since the noise of the clapping, "Where's Gilgamesh?" he mumbled.

    "The food is ready," Arturia spoke to everyone as she stood with a grunt, "I think that it's also time for treating my wound."

    "How long has it been since I stitched it?" He yawned again, standing up as well.

    "About a month," she replied as she watched him stretch again.

     His half-lidded eyes widened and he looked at her, "What? Oh my goodness! I have to take it out now. Is there water?" He asked.

     "Yes, Gilgamesh boiled some."

     "Come on then," he took a hold of her hand and dragged her over to where they had set up the fireplace.

     Gilgamesh laughed as he saw Arturia, "Took you long enough," he grinned. Then his red eyes dropped to her hand intertwined with Diarmuid's and he looked at him, "Hands off my wife."

     Diarmuid waved him off and sat Arturia down before she could retort to Gilgamesh, "Lift your tunic," he spoke as he grabbed a cloth from his satchel and dipped it into the water. He saw the taken aback expression on her face and he gave her a small glare, "Do you want me to remove the stitching, yes or no?"

     She nodded slowly and lifted the end of her tunic up to her ribs as she looked away.

     "Lay down." And she obeyed him so.

     "Don't you dare make a move on her," Gilgamesh growled from behind them as he started to serve the food but still keeping his eyes on Diarmuid's actions.

     Diarmuid scoffed and rolled his eyes before quickly pressing the hot cloth on her wound, stopping her from saying something again. He felt her tense up and he applied less pressure, "Can you pass me my lance?" He looked over at Gilgamesh and the male grumbled in response. "Can _anyone_ pass me the yellow lance?"

     Gray was quick to react and rapidly scanned the area; then, after finding it, he gave it to him. "Here."

     "Thank you." He took it from Gray's hands. He looked down at Arturia and smirked, "It's going to hurt, so maybe you'd like to hold onto something?"

     "Don't tell her that!" He heard Lucy call from next to them.

     "I'm good," she assured and he shrugged in return, "Just do not stab me again," she eyed the lance carefully, even if her tone was jokingly. She noticed that Lucy was also very worried.

     "You have to trust me." He, on the other hand, was serious.

     She nodded slowly and he cleaned the wound over, to rid it of any dirt, "It has healed nicely," he commented, "but you still cannot over work it."

     "Okay,"

     "You surely do not want it bleeding again," he added as he began to cut the horse hair with his lance—as they had not brought a knife, "Do not move," he warned.

     Her eyes widened again as she felt the cold of the lance against her stomach, and she bit her lower lip anxiously, "Okay."

     The cutting of the stitches was going rather well, until she felt the tip against her wound and she sucked in her belly on instinct, making him cut the surface of the wound and pull on the hair too much that it pained her. She groaned in pain and tried to inch away from him, "Sorry."

     He sighed and took the cloth to clean the trickle of blood, "I should be the one apologizing, forgive me, milady."

     "Is it bad?"

     "No, just a small scratch," he murmured as he paid more attention to the stitches. He cut the last remaining crossings and put his lance down. Dipping the cloth in the water again, he brought it to her wound, just to keep her warm, "Are you ready?"

     She slowly nodded at him, "Yes."

     He took one end of the hair from the first stitch, then slowly pulled it, gaining a cry of pain from her part as she tried to find something to hold on. Since he had not taken it off earlier, the stitches had begun to join with her skin and that was what he was afraid of. He offered her his left arm and she took a tight grip of it. He proceeded to taking off each hair from each stitch, and with every one, she tightened her grip and tried to inch away.

     "I'm done," he mumbled as he pressed the warm wet cloth against her side and searched his satchel for the bandages.

     She slowly released her grip on his arm and nodded, "Finally," she breathed as she went to sit up.

     "Stop, not yet." He gently pushed her back down as he unrolled the bandage and proceeded to wrap it around her stomach.

     She landed a hand on his and shook her head, "I can do it." After he gave a nod, she stood and did it herself, then lowered her tunic over her stomach and fixed herself, "Good job," she gave him a forced smile.

     Diarmuid bowed his head and nodded, "Right."


	12. XII

     They began to make their way back to the group that sat by the fire after they had finished. The sun was still shining on the snow and past the trees, which made Arturia sigh in relief that the darkness was gone for the day.

     As they neared the group, she noticed that they had begun to eat and that for some reason, Gilgamesh seemed tense. She slowed to a stop as she gave the young male a confused look, Diarmuid passed her by and broke her trance when he let out a loud laugh. She shot her head towards the tall man as she had never heard him laugh so hard before.

     Diarmuid held one hand against his mouth, as to suppress his laughter and the other draped around his waist to stop the pain.

     "What do you find so amusing?" She asked, smiling for his laugh seemed contagious.

     "Don't you—" he stopped for his laughter was out of control, "—see the look on Gilgamesh's face? And all this time I thought he was gay."

     Arturia laughed at the accusation and looked over at Gilgamesh, who seemed even more flustered, finally noticing that the male that sat—not even two inches—next to him was only in his undergarments.

     "Hey!" Gilgamesh hissed between clenched teeth.

     Gray looked up from his food dumbfounded, only to come face to face with his own pants, causing him to snatched them from Lucy's hand—revealing her _**twisted**_ smile, "Hmpf," he grumbled as he stood and slipped his pants on. "Shut up," he growled over at Diarmuid, "I told you that I can't help it." This phrase caused everyone (including Gilgamesh) to laugh.

     Arturia, still laughing, walked over to Gray and wrapped and arm around his neck, "We don't mind," she sighed after her laughter died down and she thought about how they were all soon to part ways. She did not fully understand why she was upset and why she had grown so attached to them in such a short time; but she knew that it had to do with her fear.

     Lucy walked up towards the pair and smiled, after a little while, she too joined the embrace.

     "Lucy we should get going soon," Gray spoke solemnly.

     "Here," Gilgamesh shoved some sort of pastry between Arturia and Gray, "your breakfast." His tone returning to demanding and his smile gone.

     Arturia nodded and let her arms drop as she took a hold of the food before her, "Okay, then, we should also start packing," she suggested.

     "Right," Diarmuid nodded as Gilgamesh also handed him a pastry and he was quick to eat it and hurrying to start on the packing.

     Diarmuid had insisted that Arturia not move an inch due to her recently healed injury and Lucy wanted to finish her food. And so, Lucy and Arturia took their time in finishing breakfast, talking about where they were off to and how much of an annoyance it was, while Diarmuid and Gray worked on cleaning up and Gilgamesh ate more than his deserved share.

     Arturia blinked as Diarmuid readied her stallion, "It was so very nice to meet you, Lucy," she smiled as she looked at the other female, "and Gray." Her head turned towards the dark-haired male, "I hope we will be able to see one another again."

     "Aw, I wish that we could have travelled together for a longer while," Lucy sighed.

     "Yes, that would have been delightful, but it is a shame that we must be going now..." The female gave a short frown in return, truly wishing to talk to them for a longer time.

     "Okay then!" Lucy waved, "Bye, have a safe trip!" Lucy and Gray both pivoted on their heels and faced the wintry forest.

     "Uh...do you remember what way we came from?" Gray rubbed his neck as he glanced at Lucy.

     "How could you forget?" Arturia chimed in as she pointed at the bushes to her left, "It was from those bushes that you first felt confident." Her giggles returned and Gray rubbed his temples.

     "Oh, yeah..." There was evident regret in his voice, his eyes shutting slightly as he understood her reference.

     Lucy laughed along and managed a coherent "You're right! Good memory; thanks!"

     Arturia smiled as Gray pulled Lucy towards the opposite side of the bushes and waved them of. After taking a deep sigh, she mounted her horse with the help of Gilgamesh, already missing the company that made her feel safer.

     "We should be on our way, hopefully we will reach a town before sunset." Diarmuid grunted as he mounted his Mare and lead the way towards the south.

     For the most part of the morning, there were only a few conversations; the occasional questions about the journey or other villages. In the midday, when the sun was at it's highest but the cold air prevented warmth, they had stopped in order to eat; but she had no apatite. The sun was all she wanted, and even if Diarmuid had tried his best to convince her to eat, she would only sit still and feel the sun on her face. The warmth keeping her safe and relieved, while the light gave her some hope; hope about her true home and friends.

     They were not able to make it to another village before sunset, and they had to camp outside once more. The cold and the darkness still frightening her with every sound. She tried her best to fall asleep, but even with Diarmuid keeping watch and Gilgamesh sleeping next to her, she was scared to close her eyes. The thought of her past haunted her so deeply that she could only turn about on the makeshift bed. The sound of the wind howling through the sleeping forest made her uneasy, and the crackling of the wood scared her all the more. Even if her eyelids felt heavy and the sleepy notion overtook her, her mind could not allow her to fall into slumber.

_She entered a room, her eyes flickering over her surroundings as she tried to find someone. Then, from the darkness, a figure emerged. A tall man, taken advantage of by life and hair already graying._

     " _Father," she greeted him with a short bow, "Are you faring well?"_

     " _My daughter," he slowly approached her, "Are you doing well? Where have you been, you always runaway."_

     " _On a Hunt, father, and I am doing well; see no injuries." She lifted the sleeves of her tunic as if to show him that she truly was completely fine._

_Her father led her to the seats by the fire and sat down after she too had taken a seat, "And what did you catch?"_

_Arturia laughed and shook her head, "Unfortunately, I was not able to catch a single thing—but Lancelot caught a deer," She smiled._

_Her father gave a nod and then turned towards the fire, "Lancelot is a fine boy; he would have made a great husband..." She could hear the hint of remorse in her father's voice, and it made her feel hurt._

     " _It is quite alright, Father, it is fun to pretend to be a man sometimes. I like the fact that I can do anything and no one judges me," she laughed, "I have more freedom than I would if the people knew me as Arturia and not Arthur." Her words were not entirely true; she did want to be a girl sometimes. Go out in the sun and play by the river with a sundress, a hat clinging to her head as the wind blew roughly. She wanted to let her hair down and feel the breeze through it; she wanted to get married and have a child of her own; her true heir._

_Her father returned the smile, "I see..." he mumbled, "As long as you are happy then."_

     " _Father..." She took a deep breath, it was better to tell him._

     " _Yes, darling?" He blinked, relaxing his shoulders and leaning back on the seat._

     " _I think I...I fancy Lancelot, Father. I know that_ — _"_

     " _You fancy him? You like him?"_

 _She took another breath as her father's voice became more stern, "Yes, but_ — _"_

     " _Arturia, sweetie, you cannot; what if_ — _"_

     " _He already knows, father, and he's accepted me."_

_Uther bit his lower lip, "I cannot allow this," he mumbled, "I am sorry, but Lancelot cannot be with you. Instead, I think that it would be best if he secretly courts Guinevere."_

     " _Father!" She drew a hand to her chest, "What?" There was desperation in her tone of voice._

_He sighed and leaned his head on his right hand, "It would be best. When you and Guinevere wed, someone needs to give her a child; it should be Lancelot."_

     A warm tear ran down her face as her eyes fluttered open. "Father..." she mumbled as she saw daybreak once again. Her father had been a good man to her, he had always been supportive; unless it contradicted with the rules of the Kingdom. But she could feel her heart slightly constricting as she remembered his words; her mind unable to comprehend why her father had wanted to change her completely.

     She sat up slowly and slouched over her knees once she had brought them up. She yawned as she hugged her legs and felt the heaviness of her bones. She opened her eyes once again and licked her dry lips after letting out a breath. She cracked a smile. A sorrowful one; with melancholy lacing the atmosphere around her.

     She stood a little bit unsteadily and walked over to Diarmuid, who had fallen asleep and let the fire die out. For a second she was afraid of the forest, but she shook it off and just watched the sleeping knight. She had to stop depending on the people around her and start to focus on how she could protect herself.

     After glancing about for the yellow Lance, Arturia took it in her hands and walked deeper into the forest, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Her grip on the weapon tightened as she lifted it and began to swing it about; in order to get the feel of it. The muscles that she had worked so hard to gain were starting to let her down, she had not exercised in months and that was taking a toll on her. She let the lance down for a little while as she tied her hair up with a blue ribbon, and rolling her shoulders to ease their tension. Upon lifting the weapon again, she held it in her right hand and pretended to hold a shield in the other.

     She swung the spear as if it were a sword, hitting the trees before her and causing the sound of cracking wood to fill the forest. She grunted as the spear shook with every vibration that a hit caused. She would usually wield a single sword, and so she held the lance with both hands in order to have full control. Arturia swung to her left, and the the right; creating cuts all over the trees around her.

     The snow behind her crunched under weight and she flipped her head around, this time ready to fight any lingering shows.

     "Woah! Careful," Diarmuid held his hands up, "I only wanted to check what was making all the noise."

     She let out a breath as she lowered the spear, "Did you sleep well?" She caught him yawning.

     Diarmuid gasped slightly and gulped, "I am so—"

     "It's alright, you must have been really tired. You could rest a bit longer if you want, I was only practicing." She rolled her shoulders again and tried to crack her neck.

     Diarmuid rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, as if to rub away sleep itself. He nodded slowly and began, "It's alright," he yawned again, "mind if I join you?"

     "Join me?" She mumbled, giving him a sideways glance as she was turning back to the trees.

     The male cracked his knuckles, "If you don't mind, that is."

     She looked back at him again, giving him a smile as she thought that she did need face to face combat in order to help her skills improve, "That would be great," she nodded.

     "Let me grab my spear first," he said with another yawn, "I'll return in a little bit."

     She watched as he left and went back to getting in a couple of swings before he returned. Upon his arrival, she faced him and gave him a small smirk.

     "Are you going to eat today?" He mumbled as they circled one another.

     Her smile dropped and she shrugged, "I am not feeling hungry."

     "A knight needs to have a balanced diet," Diarmuid gave her a soft smile, "You need to hold a sword again." He twirled the red weapon in his hands and then pointed it at her.

     "A knight, how are you so sure?"

     "The way you held my spear before indicated that you normally hold swords, and you have muscles for a reason," he explained his speculations, a triumphant smile on his face.

     After returning the bright gesture, she launched toward him, spear ready to knock him down.

    Diarmuid was quick to block her attack with a simply swirl of his weapon, "A lance is not a sword," he advised her, "It's not how you hold one."

     She let a chuckle slip, and attacked him again, "Maybe we could fight again when I have an actual sword; until then this spear would have to do."

     He blocked her and then jumped back, "Your right is wide open, get your body a little lower to the floor."

    She growled at him and rolled her eyes, "Give me e break; I'm still injured."

     Diarmuid laughed, "Of course." It was his turn to attack her and—with a grunt—he swung the spear to her left, and she blocked it, without the strength he expected. He attacked her again and again, but she would only block and not make her own moves. With every swing of his weapon, she would step back, to the point where her back hit a tree and she sighed in defeat.


	13. XIII

     He was grinning, the corners of his lips almost near his ears; he was trying  his best not to smile so much and so his lips were trying to curl into a tight and unconvincing frown to hide his joy, "I am sorry," he whispered as he lowered his  lance from her neck.

     They were a little too close for comfort, but he  had not even realized it. He was leaning against the tree with his left hand, her head next to his arm, and a unamused expression on her face.

     "Why are you smiling?" She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him, as she too  was trying not to smile because the man before her looked rather joyous and it made her happy as well.

     He shrugged his shoulders, "Because I beat you and it is very nice to spar again," he huffed, the smile still plastered on his face.

     Arturia rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle, "Yeah, _sure_." She shook her head but still kept her gaze on him.

     He dropped his head and laughed a little bit, "Hey, I haven't sparred in a month."

     She bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing at his defensive tone, "Why are we whispering?" She still kept the soft and gentle tone of  voice, looking up at him every once in a while.

     He brought the tip of the spear to his lips, "The trees might hear us, shh," he hushed as he looked up at the sleeping forest, extending his neck to look out for  'enemies'.

     The woman finally let the laughing out and she nudged  Diarmuid's shoulder, "Because trees can talk," she snorted and shook her head again.

     Diarmuid relaxed and gave her a short nod, "Oh, but they do, milady," his eyes flickering to hers again as he dropped his arm from the tree to stop caging her against it, "They whisper in the spring and summer."

    Arturia plunged the lance unto the snowy floor,  making it balance between the ice that was starting to melt, "Right, of course, how could I forget?" She smiled up at him, her green eyes  showing her tease.

    Diarmuid nodded again and finally let himself smile properly, "You think I'm insane."

     "What?" She furrowed her brows, " _Noo_..." Her tone clearly sarcastic and playful.

     "They do, okay well maybe not the trees, but the leaves do," he reasoned as  he clicked his tongue, "You can hear their calming whispers."

     She gave him another unamused look, "Right," she nodded, slowly as if trying to make him understand.

     He smiled brighter, chuckling a little bit, "Haven't you heard them talk? I hear them all the time. They carry a lot of secrets for they cannot  ever keep quiet." His eyes were set ablaze with joy and something else,  probably him hoping to make the female laugh a little harder.

     "Spring is on it's way, huh?"

     "Yes," he sighed, "hopefully by the time we reach the sea there will be no more snow."

     "Maybe  I'll hear them then... and stop with the smiling," she jokingly warned,  "I'll beat you next time around, when I actually have a sword in my hands." She too was trying not to smile too much, as she had felt  comfortable when they were sparring. It had been a long while since  the last time she fought someone, and it made her feel relaxed.

     "How far until we reach another village, Diarmuid?" Gilgamesh called as his  horse whined and kicked in a single spot. Now that the days were getting warmer, and the snow was melting, the horses were being a bit more active than usual; their upper bodies having more movement because they  did not need to conserve energy.

     Diarmuid turned his mare towards Gilgamesh and then looked beyond him down the trail of the forest, "It should only be a few hours now," he nodded over to the man next to him, "Why? Are you becoming impatient?"

     "I swear, Diarmuid, if we are lost; I will—"

     "Hey look! I see chimney smoke!" Arturia pointed at the top of trees when she saw the dark smoke rising into the cool breeze.

     "That could be a forest fire, how are you so sure?" Gilgamesh lowered his head back towards Arturia, who seemed a little too hopeful in his eyes.

     Arturia  rolled her green eyes, "I am certain. A forest fire causes much more smoke than that, and in a more chaotic path, Prince Gilgamesh, and it  would mean that we'd be trapped."

     "How would you know? You know nothing about that sort of stuff, you are probably only a farmer."

     Arturia  smiled sarcastically at Gilgamesh and pulled on the reins of her horse  after tapping its belly so that it would start to move. She led the  horse towards the smoke and did not even wait for the men to follow.  From a slow walk to a trot, Arturia hurried off towards what seemed like a small cabin in the woods.

     Upon arriving, she dismounted her  stallion and waited for the men to meet her, the forest keeping her company. Now that the air was starting to get a little bit warmer, she felt much more comfortable. Of course, she still wore the cloak because it was winter after all; but now that spring was nearing, life was going to get much better. The cabin seemed a bit dark, and the lifeless forest  around it did not help. Sleeping vines crept around it, hugging it  into the darkness and the windows were quite fogged that you barely see a thing past them; it looked as if it had been abandoned years  ago...but, oddly enough, there was still fire from the chimney.

     The sound of  trotting horses interrupted the serenity of the forest and she stared at the place where the sound originated, "You should not have gone ahead by yourself, milady." Diarmuid emerged from the forest, quickly followed by the dear Prince.

     Arturia sighed, "Why? Is it because I am a woman? You know—"

     "What is that?" Gilgamesh looked past her and next to the cabin, quite taken aback by the large pit.

     Arturia  followed his gaze and turned about to view the pit properly, completely forgetting about being offended by Diarmuid's words, "It is a quarry."

     Gilgamesh  snorted, "I know that much, but why is it here? This does not look like terrain that would hold any type of valuable stone. This is not a  place for a quarry, plus, they should have shielded it for the winter either way, now it's filled with snow and dead leaves."

     "Oh," Arturia  tilted her head to her right, "You know about quarries, now do you?"  She rested her hands on her waist, "But how would you know? You know nothing about that sort of stuff, you are only a Prince."

     Gilgamesh had heard the words before, and once he realized her sass, he rolled his eyes and grunted, "As a Prince, I know geography."

     "But you barely know about basic hunting skills," she blurted out rather easily and with a chuckle.

     Their bickering was stopped when they heard a knock, and that was when they both noticed that Diarmuid—red spear in hands—had left his mare tied to a  tree and decided to see who owned the small cabin. There was no answer,  but Diarmuid was persistent and he continued to knock.

     "Let me give it a try," Arturia walked over slowly, and stood next to Diarmuid.  She gave the door a light-hearted knock, "Is anyone home?" She asked,  her eyebrows lifting and her ears trying to listen to any sounds from  inside the building.

     "Oh..." Arturia whipped her head back to look  at Gilgamesh, "The chimney has stopped." His voice a low whisper and  his red eyes focused on the disappearing smoke, almost bewildered by it.

     Arturia  bit her lower lip at the strange behaviour from the blond man and then glanced at Diarmuid, who was also acting strange and was leaning  against the cabin, his head peaking into the window discretely. He gave her a short nod, as if indicating that she was allowed to knock.

     After giving him an odd look, she shook her head and knocked again, "Excuse me to bother you, but is it possible for my friends and I to simply cook our meal by your fireplace. We have little time and building a fire with dry wood takes a quite a while..." She rolled her eyes and hushed Diarmuid's way, "I doubt there's anyone home."

     He brought a finger to his lips and nodded, "There is," he mumbled it rather quietly, she could barely hear him.

    She looked back at Gilgamesh, who gave her a confident nod and raised a bow  in his hand, placing the arrow on its rightful place and readied himself to aim.  She furrowed her brows as she noticed that the men were acting very hostile and defensive, when she had been rather friendly.

    "Knock again, and if no one answers, open the door," Diarmuid directed as he knew that there was  something odd about the wooden cabin before them.

     Arturia did as ordered, she knocked again, "Please?" she called out and after no answer yet again, she slowly turned the door knob; surprised it had not been locked, she slowly pushed the door open, cautious about every single sound.

     Diarmuid and Arturia both entered the cabin, slowly and quietly. Diarmuid was much more on edge than she was, making sure that the hallway that they were walking through was, in fact, safe.

     Arturia focused on a ruined nightstand next to her and took up a candlestick as a weapon, to make sure that she would keep herself safe, and did not need any help from Diarmuid.

     From the inside, one could really tell that the house was indeed abandoned. The paint of the walls was chipped everywhere, and there was a lot of dust blanketing every single object. Even if it was bright outside, the cabin was dark and stuffy—something Diarmuid heavily disliked. The curtains were ripped and paintings were either broken on the floor or hanging crookedly on the dirty walls.

     Diarmuid abruptly stopped in front of a doorway, causing Arturia to bump into him, "Hey," she hissed quietly.

     "Milady, I would suggest that you return to your horse," Diarmuid had muttered it, but his tone was so very serious that it sent her chills down her  spine.

     "Right," she huffed, trying to shake away the uncertainty she felt, "and let you have all the fun in this haunted house? _Sure_ ,"  she chuckled it off.

     "Arturia," he gulped, still very serious that it was starting to frighten her, "I highly recommend you to leave."

     "What? Why is it that you want me to leave? What is _so_ frightening?" She pushed  past him, and goodness had she wished she really hadn't done that. A  look of disgust settled on her face as she dropped the candle stick and  stepped back, her nose stung and her vision was going blurry with tears. She wanted to hurl; it was horrifying. Arturia hoped that with her stepping  back, she could get the sight out of her mind. She gulped down her sickness and tried to articulate a sentence, mostly to excuse herself.

     Diarmuid sighed, still keeping his eyes on the scene before him, "We should get out," he remembered that the fire had been burning up until not long before and realized that it was highly possible that someone was in the cabin with them.

     Arturia was slowly retreating when an arm wrapped around her neck and she gasped.

     Diarmuid's eyes were still glued to the scene before him and he was only snapped back to reality when he heard the loud gasp erupt from Arturia. He shot his head towards her, noticing there was an arm tightly wrapped around her  neck.

     "Oh my—" he stopped himself as he brought up his red spear.

     "Drop it!" The shaky voice of a female caught him off guard. Grey eyes filled with contempt and brown hair hung in scattered waves, dirty and messy. She had Arturia in a choke-hold with one arm, as the other held a long knife to her throat.

     Arturia did not whine or kick, she stood still holding to the female's arm, as if to let her breath a little more past the stuffy air, "Let me go,  please," she tried to gulp but she found it difficult because of the tight hold on her neck.

     "Do as she says, let her free," Diarmuid warned, already  connecting the dots of why there were severed men in the living room behind him.

     "Or what? You know that I could kill her, right?" The female blinked, glancing down at the dark red weapon that he held tightly.

     "Do it."

     The female pressed her knife to Arturia's neck, managing to draw a trickle of blood but nothing serious, "Let down your weapon, and-and...then I'll  let her go."

     Diarmuid looked at Arturia, hoping that she would  give him some sort of sign so that he would be able to free her or  listen to the other woman. After she gave him the nod to drop his lance, he sighed and did as told, his eyes turning into slits as he knew it was going to be hard to protect his master with no weapons.

    Arturia tried to breathe a little better, past the dust and the arm around her neck. She managed to even out her breathing; as she felt that she was struggling to keep steady on her feet. She dropped her hands and tried to glance around to find  something that would be enough to hurt the female behind her but not enough to kill her.

     "I did as you wanted, now let her go,"  Diarmuid blinked at the woman, trying not to completely show his fright that she might seriously hurt Arturia.

     After not finding anything, Arturia gathered all her courage and energy to elbow the  female in the ribs. After a loud gasp and loosening of the grasp around her neck, she took advantage of it and managed to get away from the woman's hold.

     Diarmuid, trying to aid her after picking up his spear, passed it over to Arturia and allowed her to knock the woman down to the floor.

     Arturia was shaky, but she took Diarmuid's arm and pulled him out of the cabin and away from the lady. Practically stumbling out, they startled Gilgamesh as they both fell to the floor,  "Get on the horse," she yelled over to Diarmuid, but he did not make an effort to move, "Get on the bloo—" she choked, her voice and breath leaving  her as the sensation of a hand clasped around her neck.

     Diarmuid looked at her rather puzzled, not understanding why her face was turning  red and she was struggling to breathe, "Arturia?"

     She was wheezing, coughing, and trying to stand past the lack of air in her lungs.

     "Arturia!" Diarmuid shook her softly, hoping she could say something that would make him understand.

     Arturia clawed at her throat to try to free it of whatever was causing her lungs to cry. Now, she was kicking and hoping that the air would fill her lungs, but with ever move, her vision would start to blur, filling her eyes with a black barrier little by little. Her muscles aching and starting to rest along with her vision. The feeling was horrible, taking over her and making her more frightened than ever. The last thing she saw before her vision went black was the blurry image of Diarmuid using his spear as a javelin and and arrow flying through the air next to him.

                         And it all came to her.

_Arthur Pendragon._


	14. XIV

     Her green eyes fluttered open for some short seconds; she saw an expression of gratitude on Diarmuid's face as he loomed over her, and a soft smile on Gilgamesh's lips before her pale eyelids flickered shut again. The darkness was taking her back again for a while longer—yet this time it was much more relaxing, she felt less pressure on her chest as her lungs were filled with air.

_Pointing her long sword at utter darkness, she knelt on her bed, trying her best to catch a glimpse of her intruder. It had been the creak of the floorboards that awoke her, and she immediately felt that something had been off. She could feel the presence of someone in the room, but she could not see them for the windows had been blocked and there was so much she could do to look around. The threatening silence was causing her chest to rise and fall more deeply than before and she kept her senses strained in order to hear or feel the enemy._

_Something blunt hit her arm and she dropped her sword, letting it clatter to a stop on the wooden floor. Her breath hitched as she reached down for the weapon, but she felt a sharp and sturdy grasp on her arms. She screamed out but a hand flew to her mouth, covering it with a handkerchief, a stinging smell filled her lungs. Arturia kicked and screamed, but with more energy that she used, the weaker she felt._

_If only she had not dismissed her guards...she would not be in this problem._

_Arturia would not go down without a fight, and so she continued to claw at the arm and try her best to kick her offender, but it was to no avail. Her body begun to tingle and with each kick, she felt weaker and weaker; her energy draining out with every single move, and her screams becoming weaker as well._

_And then she noticed as her vision blurred to black, it was not because she was weak, but because she was fainting._

     " _I am so sorry." It was all she heard; choked and a little shaky, but also gruff._

     Arturia felt the heat of the sun as the rays kept her from freezing in the cold winter air. She slowly opened her eyes and allowed the light to filter through them, without failing to make her squint. The bed below her whined as she shifted and let out a grunt, bringing her body up to a lazy sitting position; pain radiated through her neck and shoulders as she slouched forward. Her head fell onto her knees as she hugged them, letting the thumping of her head settle and hopefully disappear soon.

     Her chest rattled once a few strained coughs left her dry lips, and she cringed in pain. She heaved and then breathed in profoundly. She ran her left hand through her hair as she yawned, the faint headache becoming more prominent with ever move. Her eyes felt tired and they hurt, as did her throat when she gulped.

     She could hear a loud ruckus below her, coming from what sounded like a tavern. She groaned after realizing that they had somehow made it to an inn, and then she snuggled back into the bed; she was going to have to scold whoever had left the window open because it was making her freeze in her bed sheets.

     Arturia lay awake, her body curled so that she could heat up faster. Although she felt extremely tired and her body ached, she could not possibly fall asleep. Her head was thumping and she was finding it a little too hard to breathe, and her brain was begging her not to close her eyes.

     "How could you leave her window open?" She heard a voice call down the hallway, the person obviously seemed annoyed and exasperated, "Do you have any idea that she is weak and could catch a cold and die? What did the town Doctor say?"

     "She also needed fresh air! The dust in that bloody room does her bad too," She identified that it was Gilgamesh who tried to argue an excuse as Diarmuid bolted down to her door; the voices and steps getting louder as they neared her.

     The door burst open and it caused her head to start thumping loudly again, so she groaned in response as one of the men hurried to the window and shut it closed, "Well, that should be enough _fresh air,_ " Diarmuid sassed as he had not yet noticed that the Arturia was awake.

     "Yes, of course," Gilgamesh remarked with a roll of his eyes.

     Arturia groaned again and held her head in her head as to suppress the loud and hurtful pounding of her head, "Be quiet." Her voice was hoarse and strained, making her throat ache with the simple words that left her lips.

     Both Gilgamesh and Diarmuid gasped as their heads shot towards her curled up body. She tried to look up at them without letting both her eyes and her head hurt, but that was nearly impossible because her neck ached as well. She let out a small whimper as her neck made a unwanted movement.

     "How are you feeling?" Diarmuid immediately dropped to his knees in front of the bed so that she did not have to make an effort to move her head again.

     Arturia tightened her grip on the blankets and brought them closer to her self, "Cold and hungry," she croaked.

     Diarmuid instantly removed his cloak and draped it over her, "Do not move," he advised as he stood and took the basket from Gilgamesh; not in a rough way, rather more out of anxiety of pleasing his master.

     It was Gilgamesh's turn to kneel in front of her and look over her injuries, "You had us scared to death, _Arturia,_ " he smiled softly, but bit his lower lip in anger when he mumbled her name.

     She slowly nodded as she did not understand as to why he had furrowed his brows, "I do apologize for that."

     "Dying is not something you have to apologize for, only lying to me," he huffed, "When were you planning on telling me that your name was not actually Guinevere?"

     "That's enough Gilgamesh, let her rest, she needs it," Diarmuid barked from the table where he was preparing her some food.

     "No matter though, I forgive you because Arturia is a much more fitting name, my princess." His soft smile returned whilst his red eyes settled upon the bruises on her neck. Black and blue with tints of purple and green. There was no hand imprints, but just bruises caused by harm to the capillaries and scratches that she caused herself. Yet, there was one prominent cut on her neck, and Diarmuid had said that it was caused by the witch. His eyes then drifted back to hers and on the way he noticed her dry pale lips and swollen cheek. Her eyes bloodshot and somewhat swollen, "But Diarmuid is right, you should rest a while longer."

     "I cannot sleep," she muttered softly, her throat clenching as she gulped; causing her pain again.

     Gilgamesh looked at her with forgiving eyes and he frowned a little bit, "As expected," he huffed, "Maybe you could rest after you eat, then." He stood slowly and walked over to Diarmuid, "Liquids would be best."

     Diarmuid turned to him and huffed, "Well, my prince, I am lacking a mortar and pestle, as your highness can see."

     "I will go get one from the market," Gilgamesh did not even try to fight Diarmuid because he knew that Arturia needed their cooperation at a time like this. After tying his cloak back on and giving Arturia a nod, he left the room.

     "What...exactly happened?" She tried her best to speak, although there was a lot of pain that she felt as the words rattled her throat.

     Diarmuid licked his lips, "The witch was choking you after she was able to draw your blood. You stopped breathing and Gilgamesh was able to land a blow on her arm."

     "And what happened to her?"

      His eyes flickered towards her and then back down at the meal he was making, "She disappeared," he shrugged, "and we were able to get you breathing again." He rubbed his face with his right hand before cutting some apples with a knife Gilgamesh had insisted on buying from the market that day because; 'I won't let you cut stitches on my future wife's wounds with a spear ever again'.

     "How bad are they? My injuries, I mean," she mumbled as she blinked at him.

     He walked towards her after letting the knife down on the table and knelt again. He took a deep breath and lifted his hand slowly, "May I?" he whispered as he looked her in the eyes.

     She nodded slowly—because even that simple movement hurt her neck—and kept her gaze on him, checking what he meant when he was asking permission.

     "Lay on your back and I will pinpoint what you have," he spoke and she did as he asked. "Your neck," his cold fingers grazed her skin and she inched away at both the cold and the pain that the touch brought. "I am sorry," he mumbled but she gave him a soft nod of approval. "Your neck, here, here and here," he let his finger ghostly touch her skin, "has bruises due to the rupture of some of your capillaries; the doctor says you must be careful when you breathe and eat because it could cause discomfort and less blood flowing to your brain. You also have some scratches that you caused yourself when you were clawing at your neck," Diarmuid spoke firmly. "Your left cheek," he softly touched it, "Is swollen, as you could possibly see, and so are your eyes."

     "Is that all?" Her voice was very raspy and rough even in a whisper.

     He shook his head, "Your throat is also swollen and dried as well as harmed. And your eyes look like Christmas," he chuckled lightly in order to lighten up the mood.

     " _Christmas_? How do my eyes look like Christmas?" She furrowed her brows and wished to tilt her head but the pain stopped her.

     "Red and green, like a mistletoe," he laughed softly so as to make her feel better and much less worried as he stood and turned back to the food he was making.

     She slowly sat up and slipped out of the bed—without failing to give a small cry of pain, wrapping the blankets around herself and headed for him; after ruling that her eyes were bloodshot, "How long had I been unconscious for?" She grumbled and continued to walk towards him.

     "It was only a minute or less, but you have been resting for one day," he looked back at her and noticed that she was standing and not lying in bed, "Now, go back to the bed, and rest while I make your food."

     "I don't want to rest anymore," she coughed a little bit, "I do not like sleeping for days."

     Diarmuid frowned and shook his head, "Arturia, you must rest; it is so very important for your health."

     She tried to yawn, but stopped her self when her neck began to sting. She then sat down on a chair by the table and simply looked at him, "I must have scared both of you there."

     The Irishman gave a short shrug of his shoulders as he continued to cut the apples, "It is not the first time I find you half dead in the snow," he reasoned, "But you really do get yourself in a lot of trouble, isn't that right?"

     "I do not go finding trouble; I am a prince and thus trouble finds me." She rubbed her arms to try to get a little warmer. Now that the window was closed, she could feel the room was starting to heat up, but she could still sense the cold in her bones, "We need to hurry to Camelot, as my father, the king, is waiting."

     Diarmuid dropped the knife and turned back to her with disbelief in his bright eyes, "Pardon me?"

 


	15. XV

     "Your precious Prince of Uruk has returned," Gilgamesh pushed the door with his foot as he held even more groceries in his hands. Upon entering he noticed that Arturia had gotten up from her bed and a very surprised Diarmuid stared at her with confusion, "Well, I missed shocking news," he huffed and stepped towards the table, "What happened _this_ time?" He let the groceries rest upon the wooden table as he watched both of them in eagerness.

     "Diarmuid finds it hard to believe that I am a prince," Arturia turned to Gilgamesh with the straightest look on her face that it made Gilgamesh a bit taken aback.

     He looked at her and blinked his eyes a little bit, "Pardon? You mean princess, right?" He held back the smile and laughter that were threatening to erupt any second.

     " _Prince_."

     "Hmm?"

     "Do not tell me that you also do not believe me?"

     Gilgamesh could not hold it back any longer and he simply fell into a fit of laughter, "You? A prince?" He managed to wheeze, "Did the incident make you a little bit mentally unstable?" Even with the offended look on her face it made him laugh harder.

     "Quit laughing at her," Diarmuid groaned, "She seems to be telling the truth."

     "The truth? _Ha_! She is a lady! Ladies are not Princes!" Gilgamesh had to sit on the floor to stop himself from laughing, "Do you even hear how crazy she sounds?" Then his smile dropped and he held a serious expression, "Oh my god, I am sorry. You are a prince. Forgive me," Gilgamesh bowed before her and then glanced up at her thankful expression, "I have to bow before my rival."

     She gave him a soft smile and nodded, "Gilgamesh believes me," she turned back to Diarmuid.

     "I never thought I would see that expression on your face," he mumbled and then began to laugh again, "you look hilarious! So... _hopeful_!"

     Arturia pouted and crossed her arms as she heard that he was playing a joke on her. She gave him a dirty look and grit her teeth, "Now I know who my friends _aren't_ ," she scowled, her brows knitted together in annoyance.

     "Do not tease her like that, Gil, you are making her irritated," Diarmuid warned, eyeing the other man with disappointment.

     "Alright, alright," Gilgamesh calmed down but let some small chuckles slip, "Alright. Hah..." He stood from the wooden floor and both Gilgamesh and Diarmuid stood before her in silence.

     "Tell us why you think you are the prince." Diarmuid licked his lips and looked down at her as he tried to understand as to why she even thought that.

     Her green eyes turned to slits and she glared daggers at them before starting, "Well—"

     "A _prince_?!" Gilgamesh erupted into laughter again and Diarmuid had to nudge him to stop, "It is just inconceivable!"

     Arturia growled and stood, "Look," she stood turned about, her back to them, "I can prove it."

     "How can you prove that you are a man?" Gilgamesh blurted but then bit his lip, wishing he had not said that, "Never mind, I did not mean that; please do not tell me that you are a man."

     She shot her head towards him and glared at him, "I am not a man! I am a woman!"

     Diarmuid crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, "Then?"

     Arturia started to lift up her gown whilst still keeping an eye on them. Immediately—after half her calve was showing—Diarmuid turned away with a dark blush on his face, but Gilgamesh made no effort to show reserve.

     "Gilgamesh!" Diarmuid pulled on his arm to make him look away after the dress kept inching upwards.

     "Why are you being so modest?" Arturia furrowed her brows, truly confused because she had never encountered an expression like that, "I am simply showing you that I am a prince."

     Diarmuid kept his gaze on her eyes and walked towards her, smacking her hands gently so that she dropped the dress back down, "Showing a man your legs is practically asking him to marry you."

     Arturia gave him a look of confusion, "Well, I never knew women proposed to men by lifting their skirts in Hibernia," she blinked, "do not get the wrong idea, Diarmuid, I am not asking you to marry me," she spoke before lifting the dress again.

     "I do not mean it like that!" He pulled her dress back down, "I mean to say that only your lover or husband can see that far up your leg."

     Arturia took a deep sigh, "I am not doing anything wrong, Diarmuid, I am simply proving that I am the Prince. Now, I know you've only seen one another woman's legs, but it is not the same as me showing you my brand."

     Diarmuid blushed again and covered his face, "Could we not talk about Gráinne?"

     "Well, I never mentioned her," Arturia shrugged and no longer paid attention to Diarmuid as he turned about and kept his gaze away from her, "This is the brand." There was some sort of crest on the back of her mid-thigh and it was only Gilgamesh that was paying attention.

     "Well, that and a lot of scars," he commented trailing his gaze up her legs.

     Diarmuid stood between Gilgamesh and Arturia after noting that the prince's gaze lingered a bit too long and gave him an irritated look, "That is enough."

     Arturia dropped her skirt and let it fall to her ankles before fixing herself and turning back to the men, "You saw the brand, now tell him how it looks,"

     Gilgamesh pouted and closed his eyes, "It was a crest alright," he mumbled, "but that still does not explain that you're a prince."

     "Well, how does it look, it could give us a clue," Diarmuid crossed his arms again.

     "I might have to take another look," he smugly replied, a small smirk on his lips.

     Diarmuid grit his teeth, "But is not the mighty prince able to remember a crest with one look; or are you telling me that you are not the best prince."

     Gilgamesh groaned, and took a deep breath, "There was a dragon in the middle, and a crown over head of the crest. Right below it, on the other hand, was a lion. That really must have hurt." He bit his lower lip and looked down, "I only got a ring to show who I was."

     Arturia nodded slowly, "So did I, but my father thought it best to also stamp in case something like this happened."

      She fumbled around with the ring, letting it graze her finger. It felt like it belonged there since the beginning. It _was_ her inheritance though, and it did belong to her first child as well. She looked up from her ring and towards the commotion right outside the throne room doors.

      A woman huffed as she stumbled into the throne room. She fell to her knees and held herself up from the stone floor with her hands, a few feet before the throne. The room was covered in rich red flags, and torches lit the space to give it life and visibility. The two stained glass windows behind the throne let only so much light in and it made complete sense to have torches lit during the day time. Her heart was beating in her chest rather fast and she was truly scared for her life, "I-I..." She mumbled lowly, not daring to look up at the figure before her because she could sense the burning gaze on her body.

     "Was she alive?" A voice spoke as the person crossed their legs and settled into the wooden throne chair.

     The female gulped and nodded, "When I saw her, she was."

     "Are you certain that it was her? And that she was alive?"

     "Yes, your majesty."

     A dark eyebrow was raised and the pitch became a little higher in order to state the question again, "It was, in fact, Arturia?"

     "Yes."

     "And did you kill her?" The voice was pensive, almost delighted if one payed attention to how the words were almost chirped, but still having a lot of thought in them; thinking about the endless possibilities.

     "I—" It took so much power to make a witch cower in fear, "I tried, your majesty," she gulped and kept her gaze on the floor.

     "You tried?" It was gently spoken, as if the person was actually kind.

     The witch nodded quickly, scared because she knew what that tone meant. She tried to search her mind for a better excuse as she knew that the truth would not suffice; but nothing worthy came to mind, and she was even more frightened, "But if you give me another—"

     "How many chances have We already given you?"

     "O-one," the woman bit her lower lip, "y-your majesty."

     "Yes, one. If you could not do it in one, than you cannot do it in _two_. Or three or four. One was enough, one chance will always be enough to kill someone. But if you did not succeed, than you cannot get another chance. Life is not like that, as a witch, you really ought to know."

     "Your majesty," the female nodded slowly, almost trembling in anxiousness over what was to come.

     The person raised their hand and sighed, "Guards, please escort her out and make sure she does not come back here for she has failed Us greatly."

     "You majesty," the witch rose from her kneeling position and hurried out of the throne room followed by two Knights.

     "Lancelot!" The person in the throne called as they swung their legs back and forth, awaiting the man to hurry in coming.

     It did not take long for said man to hurry into the throne room from wherever he was, his long hair a slight mess, his chest rising and falling quickly, and a sword in hands, "your majesty," he panted, "are you alright?"

     "Of course We are alright," she rolled their eyes, "We have knights for a reason."

     "Your majesty," he bowed out of respect, fearing the woman a little bit.

     "Anyway, how have you been?" She smiled slightly.

     "...Good?"

     "That's great..." She gave another smile, wider this time, "well dear, I never did get around to asking you, did I?"

     "Asked me? Pardon me, your majesty?"

     "Were you actually able to kill her?" Eyelids fluttered with a hopeful look in her eyes.

     "Yes."

     "Well," she crossed her legs, "according to Helga, she is _still_ alive."

     He chuckled nervously, "That, ah, is not possible, I saw her bleed to death."

     She leaned her face on her hand, "Is that so?"

     "I witnessed her take her last breath." He defended, trying not to sound too annoyed by the ridiculous question.

     "Or did you just see her sigh before she fell unconscious?" The woman rolled her eyes with a little bit of sass, she was truly tired of people failing her. First it was her servant and now it was her knight.

     "She had no pulse," his lips were a straight line as he recalled the scene and wished to cringe. He had stabbed her and watched her bleed; he knew the pain she had been in but not helped her at all.

     "But why did you not make sure to stop her heartbeat? Because now it will be a problem if she returns and takes the throne back."

     "I am not a cold blooded killer!" He screamed out, it was something the woman still could not hold in her mind and it made him irritated. "I am a knight and I abide by the rules of Chivalry! Or have you forgotten what a knight stands for? What all _your_ Knights stand for?"

     "Do not talk back to me!" She barked, "I have given you _everything_ , Lancelot! Do not dare be ungrateful to me! And do not question and interrogate me about what a knight stands for because that is to _serve_ their master to even their own death." She wanted to slap him but the anger she felt was too great that she did not even want to stand from her throne, "Chivalry does not save the kingdom of Camelot, does it? I am sorry, _darling_ , but if you want this kingdom to be successful and for its lovely people to live, you must kill her. A knight stands for pure justice, and this is it."

    He grit his teeth knowing that she knew exactly what to say to make him succumb to her rule, "I know. I have already tried, but it _apparently_ did not work."

     "Or are you making excuses because you are still in love with her?" The female rolled her brown eyes in annoyance, "Must I remind you that she will bring this Kingdom to its downfall? She is going to make it drop to its knees for others to take advantage of it, are you prepared to be responsible for the great fall of Camelot? You have to save the people, you have to make _sacrifices_ , my dear."

     Lancelot clenched his fists and looked down for a little while before bringing his grey gaze back to the female before him, "I have made many sacrifices, milady, but none of them seems to satisfy you the least!"

     "You dare raise your voice to your queen?" She stood from her chair with a loud growl, "You will obey me, Lancelot! And you will kill her as I am telling you to, or your life will also be taken!"

     "Then just take my life right now!" He yelled, still residing by the door and not walking towards her for he was at the defensive.

     She bit her lip before responding and sat back down in her chair with despair, letting her red dress fan around her while her emerald and gold necklace clinked, "Lancelot, darling," she sighed and turned to him, "I really do fancy you and it would be such a shame to kill you." She gave him a hopeless look, "I really like you and that is why I am giving you another chance. Go and find Arturia; then complete the command I had given you months ago. _Please_."

     Lancelot rolled his eyes and nodded, "Milady."

     She watched him leave the throne room and then she called back for Helga, hoping that the woman was not too upset with her earlier sentence. She was tired of people failing her over and over again, and disappointing her even after their failure.

     "My Queen," Helga bowed once the guards had ushered into the room, "You asked of me."

     "I will not ask you to kill Arturia, but you must watch Lancelot take her life...and once that deed is complete..." she played with the ring around her finger. _Oh, the Pendragons would fall this time,_ "I want you to kill him."

     "Yes, it will be as you wish, Queen Guinevere."


	16. XVI

      "I still believe that we should have waited until your health was better," Diarmuid mumbled as he mounted his mare again, after having stopped to feed her and the other horses.

     Arturia slowly looked up at the bright blue sky and gave a relieved smile. The warmth of the sun felt great on her skin and the cool breeze made her feel free. The floor was starting to get muddy as the snow was melting and the days were much warmer than when they had left the cabin; what only a few weeks could do to nature. "I think it best that we are out in the forest again. The sooner I get home, the better."

     Diarmuid looked at her for a while, noticing her soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes as the sun shun bright. Her neck was still rather bruised and there was still popped vessels in her eyes, but for some reason she seemed to look pretty. Maybe it was her golden hair blowing in the wind, or just the light that the sun cast upon her; but what ever it was made her look divine. Yet for the slightest of seconds, he wished she was not his master. Diarmuid looked away and focused down on the floor, not wanting to think of her that way.

     "You suddenly realized you loved her, huh?" Gilgamesh mumbled as he rode his horse past Diarmuid, making sure that his words were not audible to the girl on the horse to the left of him.

     The Irishman furrowed his brows and turned to Gilgamesh, "I do not understand."

     "Keep lying to yourself, it is never going to work." The blond let his horse gallop through the woods and was soon followed by Arturia and Diarmuid.

     Although they had spent a week in the small room by the city, Arturia had not properly healed but she was eager to leave and hurry to the port city; where they were to take a boat to Logres. It was going to take a while to get to the shores of Hibernia, but as long as they traveled for the entirety of the day, they would be there in no time.

     Arturia closed her eyes as she felt the wind kiss her face, and she took it all in. She was happy about the memories flashing back to her; about her lover and her friend, and about her first female friend too. The days she would go on hunting with her knights, the times she used to dance with her fiancee until the dead of night, and the nights she used to spent next to her friend as they observed the night sky and thought of what they were going to achieve in the future. Yet she still could not recall how she was discarded in Hibernia.

     "Milady, are you alright?" Diarmuid's voice interrupted her thoughts and she fluttered her eyes open to see him clearly, but she felt a warm tear slide down her cheek.

     She laughed a little bit and nodded, "Yes, I am only reminiscing." She gave him an assuring smile.

     He bit his lower lip, "You needn't act so strong in front of me," he had muttered it, trying to keep it quieter than the galloping of the horses, but it did not work.

     Arturia heard him clearly and then looked back up at the sky that was mostly covered by branches and some pine trees, she let a chuckle slip, "I know, but I am not acting strong. There really is nothing wrong...although, I am thankful for your concern," she turned to him and gave him a soft smile, "You are a lovely knight I wish I had in my court."

     "Thank you," he turned from her and looked forwards, "and you are a master that I wish I would have for so much longer."

     Arturia laughed again and made her horse gallop faster, "I will race you to the next city, and if you win... We'll take another day of rest."

     Diarmuid smirked, his bright orange eyes gleaming, "And if I loose?"

     "Then..." She bit her lower lip as he kept catching up, "you will become my knight."

     He chuckled and nodded, "Either way, it will be a win-win situation."

     "Then you accept?" She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips, "Come on!"

     Their horses sped up, leaving the sound of hoofs against mud behind them with every step forward. The wind seemed to pick up and hit their faces harshly. Some branches managing to scratch their faces as they passed Gilgamesh; who tried to catch up to them the entire time. Their breaths became heavier and she would call out to him time to time, only to throw him off-guard and beat him to the next village.

     He tried to make his mare gallop faster, but Arturia was starting to leave him in the dust. He figured that taking the path would mean that he would not catch up to her, so he decided to go through smaller trails and short cuts to catch her near the village. His horse jumped over branches and he had to hold on tightly in order not to be thrown off of her. There were parts of some trails that were way too thin to make it through, but his mare managed.

     The mare jumped once more and into the main trail, cutting Arturia off and making her horse whine to a halt. Diarmuid shot her a wink and led his horse down the path at the fastest speed his horse could go, earning a frown from her.

     He would easily win, but after realizing that if she won, he would be able to see her for much longer...he slowed his horse just by seconds, allowing Arturia to catch up to him. She too started to let her horse gallop along his and they both slowed down, their smiles fading as they neared the village.

     "Ladies first," he mumbled as they stopped their horses at the edge of the village.

     She gave a hopeless smile and shrugged, "I'm a prince, thus my knight goes ahead when conquering."

     They stared at each other, none of them wanting to move in order to be the winner because Arturia knew that he could not become her true knight and Diarmuid wanted to spend a longer time with his master.

     "What? Did both of you freeze in time? It is not that cold anymore," Gilgamesh groaned as he passed them and headed closer to the village.

     Their gazes had trailed to him but they slowly turned back to each other, "I guess none of us won," Arturia commented.

     "The deal has been broken," Diarmuid solemnly stated, turning to the village.

     His mare followed after Arturia and he took a deep and audible sigh. He was a loyal knight, and that meant that he would not leave Hibernia if he needn't do it. Yet, for some odd reason, he wanted to join her in Camelot and help her fight for and defend her lands—if she really was a prince. The fact that he had yet to have a master as noble (and beautiful) as her was beyond him. He could have never thought that he'd be bowing down before a short girl that was not even the slightest bit Irish.

     "Why are you so far back?" Arturia called out to him as she turned about on her steed, "Are you thinking about Gráinne again?"

     He blushed and looked away, "Far from her," he bit his lower lip.

     "Then why did your cheeks light up?" She giggled, "There was really no reason for you to turn red if you were not thinking of her."

     "Milady, with all due respect," he did seem rather offended, "I would not think about Gráinne. Frankly, she ruined my life."

     Arturia broke into loud laughter, "How many times have I heard that from my own Knights?"

     His cheeks flushed red again and he shook his head, "She actually did ruin my life," he defended.

     "Really?"

     "She took him to the grave, quite literally," Gilgamesh spoke on his behalf, but did not even turn back to look at them as he summarized the long story, "She was the Fiancee of his master; Fionn...and she fell for Diarmuid because of his curse. After he declined her proposal, Gráinne put a spell on Diarmuid so that she could love her back. One thing led to another, and Fionn purposely let him die and if it were not for Cú Chulainn and Aengus... Well, Diarmuid would be dead."

     Arturia remained silent, her lips pursed in a straight line and her grip tight on the reins of the horse.

     "That is why I live in a cabin far from the town," Diarmuid added, way too serious that it made Arturia flinch.

     "Well, now I know how to ruin a man," Arturia tried to joke in order to break the tension, although earning a glare from Gilgamesh but a small smile from Diarmuid, "Although, I will have to find this Gráinne and get back at her for you."

     Diarmuid shook his head lightly, "You needn't do that, I am only your knight for a little while."

     "But you are my knight nonetheless, thus I must," she smirked, "It will be my pleasure."

     Gilgamesh groaned lightly just as they rode their horses past the market, "Stop flirting in front of me."

     "It is not flirting, it is fraternizing," she rolled her eyes as if it was already obvious, "Am I not correct, Diarmuid?" She kept her gaze on Gilgamesh, not looking at Diarmuid because she knew he would agree with her.

     Diarmuid blinked as he was caught off-guard, and let out a cough before nodding, "Uh...yes, yes. You are correct."

     Arturia looked over at him and furrowed her brows, a little confused for how he had reacted.

     Gilgamesh cleared his throat and blinked, "Well, it looks to me as if only one of you agrees with that sentence wholeheartedly."

     Diarmuid bit the inside of his cheek, "It is just because we are not really fraternizing because we are not enemies."

     "Are you certain about that?" She raised an eyebrow, biting the inside of her lower lip to hide her sly smirk.

    "Pardon...?" He was bewildered by her statement and quite taken aback by it too, " _Are_ we enemies?"

     Gilgamesh laughed, "The expression on his face looks like he stabbed himself with his own lance; ultimate betrayal."

     "It was a simple and harmless joke, Diarmuid, do not take it to heart." She let a little chuckle slip from her dry and pale lips upon seeing the horrified expression on his face.

     He shot her a glare and quickly looked away because she was his master, and there was so much he could do to show his sorrow. He could not disagree with her over little meaningless jokes because he had to show her utter respect.

     Since he did not win the horse race against Arturia, they did not rest in the village, rather, they hurried off to the next one before the sun would hide once again. He was still very tired from all the horse riding, even if they had rested for a week. The sleepless nights he had had were causing him extreme exhaustion.

     Once again, they had to camp out in the woods and he had to stand watch. It was driving him insane, being the only one to watch over the others while they slept. Yet it was better than looking for a prince...which happened to be under everyone's nose.

     Diarmuid wondered if his brother had returned to the cabin, or if the Fianna was still on search for Camelot's Prince. It was still a wonder that most people would never find the prince because—if Arturia was telling the truth—they were looking for the wrong person. In fact, they had never been searching for the prince; but rather a figment of their imaginations.

     The warmth of the fire got to him and he fell asleep as the fire flickered and crackled.

_The warm blood pooled around him as his eyes kept their gaze on the sky. The beautiful sky he wished he could have looked at more, the warm sun he could have appreciated more; with the colours it would bring to the sky—the smell of the flowers and fruits he yearned to pick and taste...and the birds he should have stopped to listen._

_He coughed once and took a deep breath as the water was on its way; he would live, Fionn would not betray him so._

     It was the sound of the birds chirping that awoke him. His orange eyes fluttered open slowly and he saw that the fire had died not too long ago because it still left a trail of smoke. The sky was dark yet light and the sun was still not up. He yawned as he sat up and wrapped the blanket around himself after noticing how cold he really was. Diarmuid yawned again and rubbed his eyes, finally noticing that he had not had a blanket before. He looked about and found Arturia sitting next to him, "Milady," he mumbled.

     "Are you feeling better? You seemed like you were having a nightmare," She mumbled as she was looking up at the sky.

     "Not exactly a nightmare..."

     "Well, you were moving about a lot."

     He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath, "I actually really love nature."

     "That is why you live in a cabin away from the village, not because she drove you out."

     Diarmuid chuckled, "I would have to say both," he admitted, "But you are right; it is mostly because of nature. After my father saved my life, I vowed to appreciate every single chance I got to be immersed in nature, because I had never truly paid attention, until there was blood around me."

     "And now you like to hunt?"

     "Yes, I do."

     "How is that appreciating nature?"

     "I do not actually kill the animals," he shrugged, "unless it is necessary."

     Arturia smiled, "You are very softhearted. Unlike you, I think I lack in that aspect because I will make sure that when I get back...I will see to the people that did this to me."

     Diarmuid glanced at her for a short while and gave her a hopeless smile, "I guess... Speaking of which, do you know who they were?"

     She shook her head as she huffed, "Actually, I do not." She shut her eyes closed, "I try to see the person's face in my mind, or hear their voice properly, but I cannot. I cannot see them, and it is frightening because I might remember who I am and who my friends are, but there are some of them that have knives at my back. I am afraid that I won't remember until it is much too late for me."


	17. XVII

     A sniffle was all he needed to make in order to catch Arturia's undivided attention. Her blonde head shot towards him, with a slight grunt of pain, and blood shot eyes blinking at him. She almost seemed like an owl full of curiosity and something along the lines of worry. Her lips were pursed in a straight line and her cheeks were dusted with a little bit of a red tint because of the cool morning air.

     "Do not tell me that you are catching a cough," she mumbled lightly right as the light of the sun leaked into the sky, painting it with orange and red hues.

     "I highly doubt it, milady," he gave her a small and thankful smile before looking up to see the sunrise.

     He heard her huff and move closer to him, "You cannot afford to become ill, we have a long way to go and a cold would not be convenient for our travels." She too took a look up at the sky, admiring the colours and the warmth the sun brought along with it. In fact, she really loved sunrises because they brought about a new beginning.

     Diarmuid chuckled lightly and glanced down at the empty fire pit, "I promise that I will not get sick," he smiled, "And a knight keeps his word."

     "I do hope so," she shook her head in a little bit of disappointment upon hearing him sniffle again.

     They watched the sunrise in silence and then proceeded to pack as Gilgamesh awoke with a yawn. He walked over to them as he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath, but they were not able to hear him over their own thoughts. Arturia was mostly worried over Diarmuid becoming ill because it would mean that she would be delayed in arriving home, while her knight thought of keeping his thoughts settled on the task at hand; taking his current master home.

     After Diarmuid had prepared something for breakfast, they all ate and then headed off towards the south once more, in order to please Arturia. The Irishman had been sniffling all morning and had even sneezed a few times, as his nose was beginning to be a bit irritated. Since he had promised Arturia that he would not get sick, he tried to hide most of his sneezes from her, but as the day progressed, he would simply feel worse.

     He dismounted his mare when they had arrived at the next village, and he made an excuse to leave Arturia in the hands of Gilgamesh while he went to 'take care of business', which Gilgamesh had teased him about being the bar or brothel; when he was just going to see herbalist so that he would get something to soothe his dry and aching throat.

     The walk there was not too far, but he made sure to make a few meaningless turns so that Arturia would not catch him. Since he had practically broken his promise, he did not want her finding out about it because he did not want her to look at him with such a disappointing gaze. There was some sort of tightening in his chest when he imagined the frown on her face and he vowed not to see her like such, because he did not want her to be upset with him.

     There was a bell that rang above him as he pushed the door open, and his eyes lifted up toward it. He saw the silver bell and then let his gaze drop slowly. To his surprise, the store owner was right in front of him. Shorter than him by some inches, dark cloak over her body and the hood covering her face, "Uh," he blinked as he was taken aback, "Good day, fair lady." Diarmuid greeted with a small smile on his lips...he really did not want a lady to serve him, but he would have to settle with what the gods gave him.

     "G'day," the female bowed slightly, her curly rich auburn locks slipping out from under her hood. There was something oddly familiar about both her voice and her hair but Diarmuid could not possibly place who it might have been that she reminded him of.

     "I feel I might be getting a short cough, but I cannot afford to rest and therefore I came to look for a herb that might help me," he briefly explained as he stepped to his right for she was much too close to him.

     The female watched as he fixed his armour and walked through the small isles in the cabin, "I have only a few things. Barberry, Eucalyptus, Chamomile and—as always—lemon."

     "May I have a look at them?" he asked, noting that the room was rather small and stuffy; barely any light slipped in from the fogged windows.

     "Of course," the female nodded, "right this way." The hooded figure made her way towards the counter, taking some jars from the shelf and placing them next to her safe, "Take a look, my darling."

     Diarmuid shot her a glance and blinked at her choice of words, "Thank you...?" He walked to where she was and looked at the jars that contained the herbs he was looking for.

    "For intake, a tea of Chamomile or Barberry would be good. Eucalyptus will get rid of your stuffed nose just by smelling... it also will shoo off the mosquitoes when the weather gets warmer. Finally, lemon in combination with the teas will be much more effective than the simple teas," she looked up from the herbs and he could see her green eyes past the darkness that the hood cast upon her face.

     He tilted his head slightly as his eyes settled on her enchanting ones, she was beautiful; freckles sprinkled her cheeks and nose, and the lovely tint of her white skin made her look immensely gorgeous that he had to stop and admire her beauty, "I do apologize but you seem rather familiar..." His voice became lower with every word.

     There was a bright smile, almost mocking, "Yes," she nodded, "I hoped it would not take you too long, my darling. Is it not odd that I find you here in Rheba?" She fluttered her eyelids in a flirtatious manner, allowing her dark lashes to become more visible against her skin.

     "Y-Youth? H-how...what?" Her beauty washed over him and he was no longer captivated by her charm, instead, he started to take a few steps back, "What do you want from me?"

     She slowly shook her head in disappointment, "Is that any way to speak to a lady?" She tilted her head to her right and peered at him through her lashes, "When we first met in the forest, you were enamoured with me, do you not recall?"

     "And then you bewitched me," he hissed, "I bet you recall that part too."

     She clicked her tongue in disdain a couple of times while shaking her head again, "That is because you think that a one night stand will suffice with me. I offered you my heart and you rejected it," she shrugged, "It was the least I could do to show my sorrow over the matter."

     "If you really did love me, then you would have understood."

     "Understood?" She rounded the counter as she slid her fingers on it, "What was there to understand? You used me for your pleasure..." Her steps were gentle but the heels click-clacked on the wooden floor a little forcefully as she approached him, "And you had to pay."

     His eyes widened slightly, "I did not use you for my pleasure, you were the one to—"

     "To what? First to what, Diarmuid dear?" Her menacing tone and expression cut him off, "I do still love you, you are aware of that, yes?" Youth glanced at him as he gulped, "But unlike the first time we met... you seem to fancy someone else right now."

     Diarmuid took a deep breath and turned on his heel as he proceeded towards the door of the small shop.

     "—Now, wait just a minute," he could hear the smile on her lips as he turned the knob, "You would not want that little lady of yours to be in any trouble, right?"

     Diarmuid shot his head towards her at the mention of Arturia, "You would not dare!" He growled in a husky tone. She could threaten him all she wanted, but when it came to his master... he would have to defend her.

     He saw her giggling lightly, "Maybe I would..." She shrugged, "Or maybe I would not... But your reaction _is_ exquisite." Youth clapped her hands twice, "I would have not imagined to see you this invested in someone without being under a Geass."

     Diarmuid grit his teeth and turned about again, "Just leave her be."

     "Hmm, we will see about that."

     "Or I will not be able to forgive you." He muttered before pulling the door open and hearing the bell again.

     "Ah, how I wish to see that," he heard her chuckle past the ringing of the bell and he grunted in response before leaving the building and heading back to where the other two had promised to be. They stood looking at some books to read from one of the market's stands. Since they were both royals, they were able to read for pleasure... but Diarmuid only did when needing to (for he was taught by his foster father).

     "We should get going," he grumbled after passing them by and striding towards the horses, a stern look on his face as he gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

     "Woah, looks to me as if you met a devil," Gilgamesh laughed once Arturia followed after Diarmuid and he hurried after them too, "What? The women were not good enough for you?"

     "That is enough, prince Gilgamesh," Diarmuid barked and it caused Arturia to jump, "It has nothing to do with prostitutes." His irritation was causing his head to hurt and his throat to ache again.

     Arturia glanced around as people began to stare and then she heard Gilgamesh as he leaned closer, "He was not pleased," he chuckled.

     "Gilgamesh," the annoyed man growled, "I can hear you."

     The Prince of Uruk laughed again and shook his head, earning a cautious glance from Arturia as she tried to warn him not to piss the other male off even more. The prince just shrugged and followed, looking down at the book that Arturia had bought; it was empty and it was a journal. He thought she was one of those women that always wrote their adventures down and he rolled his eyes; it was better to tell and not write, at least that was his opinion.

     "Diarmuid," she led her horse towards him after a very long silent journey, "Is everything alright?"

     "There is nothing to worry about." He managed to speak without it being a hiss, there was respect he had to show to his master, even if he was angered.

     "You have not seemed yourself since the previous village..." Arturia stated, hoping to get a conversation started, but he did not reply, "Did you manage to get some medicine?"

     His head turned towards her and he blinked before looking back towards the road, "What do you mean? I am not ill."

     Arturia smirked, "I highly doubt that. I have heard you sneezing and sniffling through out the entire day, I think it would be best if we get you some medicine." She allowed her horse ahead of his, "Being ill does not excuse you to be a complete jerk," she added, "so lighten up."

     He cracked a smile but quickly returned to a frown when he realized his heart became a bit heavy for himself. _She is only watching out for me since I am being unreasonable_ , he told himself, but deep down he knew that he wished it was more than just watching out for him. 

 


	18. XVIII

     "Oh dear! You are burning up!" Arturia touched his forehead. She had made them stop their journey because she saw that Diarmuid was starting to tire. He had begun to lean forward into his horse and she took note that he was ill, so she made them stop in the middle of a plain field for a while but they were able to make it to the next village before mid night.

     Diarmuid slowly shook his thumping head and declined the accusation, "No, I think I am fine," he murmured.

     " _Fine_?" Her eyes grew wide, "You feel like fire!" Upon her retort, she led him to the bed they had rented for the night. After helping her drag the man to the room, Gilgamesh had made an excuse to leave and rent another room for himself; something about princes not allowed to get sick.

     Diarmuid weakly moved her hand from his forehead because he was beginning to become too self-aware for himself, "Yes I am."

     She stood from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, "You should have bought medicine," she growled and turned around, "I will get you some tea and a warm wet cloth, alright?"

     "Milady," his voice was weak and he tried to reach out to her, "there is no need for you to do that."

     "I think that there is," she sighed, "I will be back in a while, do not move, do you understand?"

     "But milady—" he made an effort to sit up from the bed but he fell back.

     She let out a chuckle as she shook her head, "That is an order," she sighed and left the room. Arturia slowly made her way down the stairs, a small smile on her face as it had been a long time since she took care of a person that was ill. She thought of returning the favour; since Diarmuid had rehabilitated her twice already. Upon reaching the bar section of the inn, she was glad that bars still did not close—or this bar at least.

     Arturia had asked the innkeeper if he had anything for colds and he handed her some chamomile and eucalyptus. He said that she was lucky because he had almost fallen ill the other day but the good lord didn't let him use the last of the ingredients he had. She had given him many words of thanks and she hurried back with a pot full of water to the room; Gilgamesh had made sure to have a 'kitchen' included in the room so that she was able to properly rehabilitate Diarmuid.

     She entered the room with a small smile, "You're in luck, these are the last ingredients they had." Her smile dropped when she saw him on the floor. She rolled her eyes and left the items on the table and walked towards him. She knelt in front of him and sighed, "Did I not tell you to stay still?"

     "I deeply apologize, but I cannot get up, milady," he mumbled at her as he tried to get up, but since he was very ill, he could barely push himself off the floor. He sneezed as she helped him up and led him to the bed.

     "Now you have to listen to what I say," Arturia commanded, her lips pressed together in a thin line of disappointment. "Alright, take your shirt off," she said as she helped him slouch.

     He looked at her a little bewildered and he fumbled with his words, "M-Milady? P...erm...pardon?"

     Huffing once more, she curled her fingers on the hem of his tunic and lifted it up, "Arms up," she commanded and he obeyed with a blush—but it was not obvious because of his flushed cheeks.

     Arturia managed to pull his tunic over his head and lay him back down, catching glimpses of his battle scars—one rather prominent near his stomach. For some reason she frowned and reached for that one. It was big and discoloured, much more than the rest. She felt the rough but delicate skin under her fingers, although it was a simple scar, she noted that he had a lot of muscles and a rather chiseled torso.

     "Milady," he mumbled and took her hand from his scar, startling her because she thought he had fallen asleep, "it hurts."

     She tilted her head slowly and looked down at him, "The scar?" she furrowed her brows.

     "My head," he led her hand to his hot head, "and my heart."

     Arturia frowned and nodded, "I'll try to relieve the headache and heart burn with some camomile tea and by burning some eucalyptus." She gave him a soft nod and stood to boil some water that she had gotten from the well earlier.

     "It hurts," he mumbled again, this time he sounded as if he was in true pain, some sort of pain that she could not quite understand, "it hurts."

     She walked back to him and sat on the bed next to him. She took his hand in hers and caressed it as if to comfort him and take his attention away from the pain, "You're alright. You're safe with me," she sighed and he shut his eyes closed tightly as he took in the pain. She heard the water begin to boil and she went to stand but he stopped her by holding her hand much tighter.

     "I am only going to get you some tea and a warm cloth for your head, alright?" She glanced down at him but he shook his head, "I'll also get you some help because there is so much that I could do."

     "Don't leave," his painful voice managed to husk.

     She bit the inside of her lip and squeezed his hand, "I will be right back, I promise." She exited the room and closed the door behind herself. Arturia took a deep breath and walked over to Gilgamesh's room. She slowly knocked on the door and soon after a shirt-less Gilgamesh opened it with an annoyed expression on his face.

     "What do you want?" He growled, "Did you get bored of him already? Finally noticed I'm better than him?"

     "I need your help," Arturia admitted, ignoring his remarks, "How would one take care of someone who is very sick? I feel like the Chamomile tea won't work..."

     Gilgamesh blinked at her, "Why are you asking a prince? I am not meant to do a peasant's job."

     The short blonde female rolled her eyes, "Why did I even bother asking you?" she grumbled to herself. After pivoting on her heel, she hurried off to the herbalist's shop—she should have guessed that they were closed, but desperate times called for desperate measures; so she knocked a few times.

     After she heard creak coming from inside the building, she stopped knocking and awaited for the herbalist to appear. A beautiful young woman opened the door, auburn hair messed up with sleep and groggy green eyes blinking at her, "The moon is much too high into the sky, can you not see? I am a herbalist. Not a lady of the night," she groaned.

     "I hadn't meant to offend you, my good woman," Arturia mumbled under her breath, the chilly air forming opaque puffs by her mouth.

     "Of course you did not," the female sassed, "what do you want?"

     "My dear friend is ill and I know not how to take care of him properly..." Arturia blushed at her own inexperience, "I only came for advice."

     The herbalist looked at her with a judging eye but then blinked it away, "Had I known it was you, I would have been a bit more presentable." The lady fixed herself, "Oh my! Come in, _come in._ " She had suddenly seemed more hospitable and sweet than before.

     "Whatever do you mean by _me_?" Arturia tilted her head.

     "I mean to say that I had seen you around town; a respectable young woman you are," the woman smiled but Arturia found it odd because they had arrived that day in the night when there was no market service, "The sniffles and a fever, correct?" She glanced at Arturia as she headed for a shelf.

     "Yes, he was burning up," Arturia nodded as her eyes flickered over the odd shop, for some reason there was something off about it and it made her feel uncomfotable.

     There was shuffling caused by the herbalist and then she walked back towards Arturia with a vile of pink liquid in her hands, "These are juiced Barberries," the female smiled, "a drop every day for seven days will cure the sniffles. You could apply the drop to the tea or his food; matters not."

     Arturia bit her lower lip, "Well... I do not really know about that since I have no money with me at the moment."

     "Worry not, dear," the herbalist gave her a sweet smile, "I will give it to you free of charge, I imagine how troubled you are."

     "Thank you, I offer all my gratitude," Artruia thought it best to accept for the sake of her knight and so she did not mind taking the medicine, "Have a good night."

     After thanking her again and walking back to the inn, she slowly entered the room and hurried to make the tea, as the water was beginning to disappear. She heard him groan something but she could not properly hear him and thus ignored it. After making him the tea and burning the eucalyptus, she poured a drop of the Barberry juice into the tea and walked towards him. She sat on the bed next to him and leaned against the headboard.

     "Thank you," he mumbled lightly as she helped him drink the tea, holding him up and helping him hold the mug to his lips.

     She shook her head and kept him held up lightly, Arturia then took a deep breath and let him back down when he was done with the tea.

     He was mumbling things that she could not really hear but there was a sentence that immediately got to her, "I think I have some feelings for you," the mumble had caused chills to run down her spine and she blinked down at him. Her heart feeling as if it was swelling in her chest, her cheeks also feeling warm.

     "Dia—" She was interrupted by his voice, small and nearly inaudible.

     "Grainne, s—"

     "Alright," she huffed, feeling a little betrayed when she had realized that he thought she was Grainne, "Time for you to sleep, no talking." Arturia blinked rapidly and covered him with the sheets. Something in her stomach twisted and she had a slight feeling of uneasiness, but she pushed it off and scooted further away from him.

     Arturia bit her lower lip as she looked out the small window and to the moonlight that was able to hit some trees. She rolled her eyes and tried not to think about what the male next to her had said because it was causing her to feel upset and betrayed. He was not feeling anything for her, it was all for Grainne, even if he had lied that he did not like her.

     When she awoke, her neck was aching due to the fact that she was still sitting against the headboard and there was an arm draped around her legs, head leaning against her thighs and the sleeping man not even snoring. Her right arm was asleep as her left was place on his soft hair. She slowly retracted it and yawned as she was careful to slip from his grasp. Well, at least he seemed better than the day before.

     She wrapped a blanket around herself as the morning was a little cool and she began to boil some water. Her legs hurt a little bit as they had remained in the same spot the whole night, and even the bright morning sun was not making her any happier. She closed her eyes and stretched by the fire, a hand running through her hair.

     A sneeze startled her and the sniffling man sat up from the bed, his hair rather messy that it made her giggle, "Milady?" he asked as he yawned.

     "Good morning, sleepy," she smiled, "how are you feeling?"

     Diarmuid blinked and yawned again, "I told you that I was fine," he gave her a nod, "I am not sick at all."

     "Yes," she laughed, "that is why you confused me for Grainne yesterday night. To be quite honest, I know not what she looks like, but I assure you that I do not think I look like her at all."

     The was a look of horror on his face and he quickly got up from the bed, but getting tangled in the sheets and falling over, acquiring a chuckle from Arturia's part, "Forgive me, milady," he groaned as he stood from the floor.

     "You need not apologize for tripping," she smirked and looked back at the fire, "we all fall sometimes. Physically and emotionally," her mind was getting lost in the warm and bright flames, they were gorgeous as they danced in the chimney.

     He rubbed his face and looked down, "I mean to say that I was sorry for mentioning Grainne. I doubt I confused you both, I would not do so for—as you said—you are nothing alike."

     "But you were rather ill, I do not blame you," she shrugged and yawned again as she kept her gaze on the flames, "An ill man can say many things he might not mean."

     He slowly and shamefully dragged his feet towards his master, "What did I say?"


	19. XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We've come a long way, do you not think so, my fair knight?" Arturia leaned her head on her hand and yawned.
> 
> "Have we?" He turned to her, feeling as the warmth of the liquid ran down his aching throat.
> 
> Her green eyes were fixed on the small window in front of her and she then looked down at her tea, "Yes, we have."

     Arturia did not fail to put the drop of the pink solution as advised. The beauty that had given her the vile seemed to pop into her mind quite a bit. It was a wonder to her how someone could be so beautiful. She was amazingly gorgeous and even her messy hair seemed soft to the touch. Her mind wandered a little more as she placed the cup of tea on the table in front of Diarmuid who was rubbing his face every now and again.

     Diarmuid gave her a small nod and a smile, "Thank you," he acknowledged as he wrapped his hands around the mug to warm them up. His hair was still messy and he was yawning every now and again, but he seemed well rested so Arturia did not push it any further than that.

     She returned the kind gesture and then sat next to him on the table, "You look much better," she mumbled, "which is why I think we are able to keep moving so that we could get to the coast in a few days." She had actually wondered why it had taken them such a long time when they would probably be in Logres by now. But she guessed it was because of all the interruptions that they had had.

     His soft smile faded as he brought the tea to his lips, "I guess so," he mumbled before taking a sip, "as milady commands."

     "We've come a long way, do you not think so, my fair knight?" Arturia leaned her head on her hand and yawned.

     "Have we?" He turned to her, feeling as the warmth of the liquid ran down his aching throat.

     Her green eyes were fixed on the small window in front of her and she then looked down at her tea, "Yes, we have." Her head gave a small nod and she looked down again, "I almost ran a poker through your heart and now we are sitting here in this inn and drinking tea next to one another as you call me your master and I call you my knight."

     He took another sip at his tea and nodded slowly, "Yes, now that you point it out, it does feel like a long time since you tried to kill me and run off," he chuckled.

     "That was because I thought you were the one that—"

     "Mhm, so you let the rules of chivalry slip you by." He had a sweet and playful smile on his lips, almost teasing.

     She rolled her eyes and pushed his tea closer to him, "Drink up,"

     "I do not like chamomile..." He made a short disgusted face, "I prefer wine."

     "Wine?" She heard him sniffle, "Wine is not going to help you get over the cold, now drink the tea."

     "Then we can have some wine later?"

     "Yes, but not when you are ill."

     Diarmuid chuckled and then gave her a small smirk, "but I am safe enough to travel, I think that a goblet of wine is really not going to do me bad."

     "Are you an alcoholic?" Her eyes widened as she furrowed her brows, there was an accusing look in her eyes and she almost seemed hostile as if she was thinking to run a poker through his heart again.

     He put the cup of tea down and shook his head vigorously, "No, _no_ , goodness no!" He coughed for he had almost spit out his tea, "No, but I do enjoy drinking wine. Mead is a bit... I don't know, I do not really like it much. Plus, we have known each other day and night for nearly two months now, I think you would have already known if I was addicted to alcohol."

     She tilted her head as if questioning her own lack of knowledge and chuckled in embarrassment, "You are correct... If I must say."

     He gave her a small smile and then looked down at his tea, noting how the warmth of the liquid left trails as it traveled from the mug the the cool air of the room, he sniffled a bit and tried to bit down his cough. She did not tell him what he had said but only that he had confused them, which he had highly doubted because he knew that it was nothing like him; even if he was really sick. He let his mind think of the endless possibilities of what he might have said that would have sounded as if he was talking of Grainne, but nothing concrete came to mind.

     "I will go get Gilgamesh from the next room, and then we can head off." He watched as she stood from her seat and left the room.

     The blanket was still around her and as she walked a few steps in order to knock upon the other man's room. She heard shuffling from the other side of the door and quick steps until Gilgamesh was able to open the door; just a small crack though, "What?" he grumbled as he peaked his head out.

     "Diarmuid and I are ready to go head to the shore now, we can give you five minutes to prepare and then we will be off." Her voice was monotone and there was no smile on her face anymore. She blinked as she awaited his response and he gave a short nod, "Good then, give the woman a farewell and we will be waiting downstairs."

     Gilgamesh's eyes grew double their size and his jaw dropped, "W-what?"

     Arturia gave him a triumphant smirk and a short chuckle, "Didn't think I would find out? It was pretty obvious from yesterday evening. Well then, we will be downstairs and if you do not show up in five minutes, we leave you behind."

     As she had promised, Diarmuid and her were waiting by the door of the bar. She had her arms crossed over her chest and Diarmuid was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, probably getting as much sleep as he could fit in before they continued their journey. A dark haired female followed Gilgamesh down the stairs and gave him a short smile before he walked towards them. He had an irritated expression on his face and Arturia guessed it was because she had interrupted his 'beauty sleep'.

     Arturia then took Diarmuid by the arm, not failing to startle him, and pulled him along to the horses that they had left in the stables the night before. Gilgamesh had followed after them quickly because it seemed that she was sprinting or hurrying to get to the port city so that she was able to get home as soon as possible. It wasn't until Gilgamesh had called them out on it when Arturia dropped Diarmuid's arm like a hot potato and disregarded the incident by quickly mounting her horse.

     " _AGHHH_!" The castle was filled with screams and grunts. The walls were practically vibrating as all the servants ran about the castle bringing water and cloths. She was huffing loudly and she tried to push as hard as she possibly could, but everything was beyond her, she was in unimaginable pain. Her body shook as she held on to the rope tightly and a nurse placed a new cold water soaked cloth on her forehead while another forced her to drink a solution of vinegar and sugar.

     She was clenching her jaw and grunting in between breaths, she could barely hear the people around her as they encouraged her to keep on pushing. Sweat ran down her forehead and her hair stuck to her head. She screamed a bit more and she thought that this was surely the end of her life, that was until she heard another cry besides her. Although the pain was still there, she let go of the rope and fell back on the plump pillows with a loud sigh of relief. She was still huffing and the nurse to her right tried to wipe her forehead and neck as the midwife finished cleaning the child.

     "Milady, it is a boy," the midwife had a lovely expression on her face, such hope in her eyes that it made her relieved, "The birth was a success."

     Guinevere smiled and watched as one of her servants ran out of the room and rang the tower bell minutes later, "Thank you..." she looked at the midwife as she held the clean baby in her hands.

     He was tiny, so very _small_ and Guinevere could not wait to hold it in her arms as she held the only thing that allowed her to remain where she was. The only thing that would give her assurance of her future... the only thing that she truly cared about. She watched as the midwife carefully walked towards her and helped her hold the small child in her arms. Her smile grew upon feeling the weight of the child in her arms an she was glad that it was crying, "I shall name you Arthur and you shall be the son of Camelot," there was melancholy in her smile but she tried to hide it. She was glad it was a boy, but it would never be her child for Camelot was the father.

     She dismissed everyone in the room and held her child a little closer to herself, "Your father cannot come back anymore, my darling, but it shall be alright because I will take good care of you. You will grow to be the new lord of the Pendragon household, and you shall unite Albion." Her smile completely dropped and she took a deep breath, "One day, when you are of age and you are so very strong... you will be a king; the best king this land will ever know."

     The exhaustion was taking over her body and she fell asleep with the child in her arms as it too joined her in the refreshing slumber.

     It had taken them a long while, but they had finally reached a port city where they would rest for the night before heading off into a boat; if the weather allowed them. Arturia jumped off her horse as the sun began to set, all the colours spilling over the sky and causing it to look gorgeous; but she did not heed them any attention as she hurried off into the inn.

     Diarmuid took the time to admire the colours and then followed Gilgamesh into the inn, where he found Arturia leaning onto the counter and talking to the owner. The man was barely listening to her for he was more interested if she had money for the room, rather than a friendly attitude. He watched as Gilgamesh approached her and wrapped an arm around her waist then placed a few coins of the table, "One night and the first boat out of here in the morrow." There was a smile on his face even as Arturia shook his arm off of her as soon as possible.

     Diarmuid started moving towards them when he heard a familiar voice call for him, "Diarmuid? Is that really you? What are you doing all the way here?" His head immediately shot towards the voice and he could not believe his eyes when he was his older brother before him; Brows furrowed and hands over his chest in a bit of disappointment.

     "I saw you through the window but I was not completely sure... What are you doing here? Gotten yourself in trouble with a woman again?"

     Before Diarmuid could answer his brother, Arturia grabbed his arms and pulled him away, "This is no time to make friends, let's go to bed."

     He saw a glimpse of his brother's enraged face and he thought it best to escape with Arturia up the stairs where Diarmuid saw that Gilgamesh had already been. He pushed Arturia into the room a bit harshly and stumbled in after her.

     "Woah there!" She barked, "What is going on?"

     "My brother...that was my brother," He bit his lower lip and leaned against the door as he heard his brother call after him.

     Arturia covered her mouth as her eyes grew wide, "What is he doing here?" She whispered.

     "I do not know," he hushed her and waited as his brother's loud steps would continue past their door but they stopped right in front and a knock on the door made him jump.

     "Diarmuid." Even more knocking, "Open the door, now. I will look over the fact that you are still with the lady that I told you to get rid of _if_ you open it, _now_ _._ " He was obviously angered, more than Diarmuid could have remembered. He was more than angered, he was disappointed and that was something that Diarmuid really hated.

     His head was bowed when he opened the door and Arturia sat patiently on the bed, her legs swinging as the blue haired man entered the room, "Care to explain why you are here?" The deep voice spoke calmly.

     "Well, you see—" Diarmuid began but was soon interrupted.

     "Not you. _Her._ " An accusing finger was pointed in Arturia's direction and she brought a hand to her chest.

     "Me?" Arturia raised an eyebrow as her feet halted from the swinging motion.

     Red eyes rolled and he grumbled, "Who else would I be talking to?"

     "Gilgamesh?" Arturia shrugged, "I mean he does act like a whiny woman sometimes."

     Although she had a point, Cu Chulainn turned about to face his brother again, "What on earth are you thinking, bringing Gilgamesh all the way here? Are you insane?"

     Cu Chulainn rubbed his face as he had taken it all in, "So you want to return to Camelot, now do you?" He looked at Arturia. They had not told him the part where she thought she was the prince because Arturia did not really trust him and there was no concrete evidence that she was anyways, "The problem is that right now Camelot is not in the best state... there are people that do not agree with the coronation of Queen Guinevere and still are on the look out for the missing prince. After King Uther passed away, we were thanked by the new Queen and quickly dismissed because she did not want to be reminded of her mourning."

     Arturia's hands began to tremble and she averted her gaze from the older man, "Uther...died?" She turned her hands to fists to stop the trembling, still not daring to look up because she knew that the pain she was holding back would seep through her eyes and she would not be able to hold her tears in any longer.

     "He was ill before we arrived and the disappearance of his only son took a toll on him. But since his son's Fiancee was holding his child...she will be the reagent until he is of age—if it even is a boy, if not then the throne will be given to Sir Gawain."

     Arturia stood from the table and slowly walked back up to the room that they had rented since Cu Chulainn had prefer to hear the explanation over a drink in the tavern. She tried to go up the stairs with as much grace as she had when her mother had died. At the age of ten, she was told that she had to be an adult, and now at the age of twenty...she was told to be King. She watched her vision blur as she walked towards the room, tears starting to slide down her cheeks; she was alone. So awfully alone; her mother dead, her father gone, her kingdom far and her friends even further. _With some pointing a knife at her throat._


	20. XX

      Her back was against the door and she was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees close to herself. And trying to take everything in. She took a deep breath as she tried to blink the tears away. _Alone again._ She wiped some tears from her eyes and kept silent, not daring to whimper out loud or even squeak.

     Diarmuid had already tried to enter the room for ten minutes, but after she ordered him to leave, he was obedient—as he always was. How was she going to return to Camelot by herself? She could not even imagine the turmoil that it could have possibly been in after loosing the prince and the King. Her head ached every time she tried to think about her life and her country. It was going to be hard to demonstrate that she was the prince that they all had been looking for.

     She leaned her head back against the wooden door and sighed. Rubbing her face with her hands, she wished to think of something much more brighter than what was happening to her. She had enough of the previous miserable months to last her a life time. She knew that she had seen war and big tragedies, but her own life had fallen apart in less than five months. For the slightest of seconds, she wished she had perished long ago in a battle so that she would not have had to endure everything that happened.

     She awoke to knocking and the door knob rattling a little behind herself. She grumbled as she lifted her head from her knees and rubbed her right eye with the palm of her hand. Her neck ached from the position she had slept in—still curled up by the door.

     The knocking became louder and she made an effort to speak and not sound as if she had just awoken, "Could you please wait for a minute or two?" She mumbled lightly, not meaning to sound rude but her voice was harsh. She pulled herself up from the floor and swallowed before cracking the door open a tad bit, "Pardon me?" It took her eyes a while to adjust to the light of the day and she yawned again.

     "My master," Diarmuid stood silently before her, "are you awake?" He hushed.

     She furrowed her brows and blinked, "Uh," she began, "Of course I am, you _are_ speaking to me."

     There was a soft blush that tinted his cheeks and he brought a hand to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, "I meant to ask if you were feeling alright, milady."

     Arturia brought a hand to her mouth as she covered her yawn and then ran said hand through her hair, "I am quite alright, thank you." Her voice was a soft murmur but he was able to hear her properly because the tavern was not yet busy and rowdy.

     He gave her a small smile and nodded, "Perfect," he could see that she was not as well as she claimed to be but he was not going to question her any further, "Well, milady, if you still wish for me to escort you to Camelot then you must prepare because the ship is to depart when the sun is at it's highest."

     She slowly nodded and then looked out the window to see where the sun was currently at, "Would that be anytime soon?" she mumbled as she could not see the shadows of the sun from her position by the door.

     Diarmuid gave a slow nod, "Why yes, it is actually very soon because milady did not awake anytime earlier, I was afraid that you might have been abducted again."

     Since she was still sleep driven, Arturia gave a short nod and then closed the door and made her way to the bed. She plopped down on it in order to get better rest with a straight back. She sighed heavily and started to drift off into a deep slumber until she suddenly jolted upwards and realized that she had to get ready in order to catch the boat on time. She stretched for a little bit and gathered the belongings that lingered in the room and then walked out, coming face to face with Diarmuid, who seemed like he had been waiting for her for a long while now.

     Arturia nodded his way and then proceeded to walk down the hallway and to the stairs, "Is Gilgamesh waiting for us?" she asked as she turned her head towards him.

     "No, he is going on his way back to Connacht with the Fianna," She heard the voice call but it was not from the man that she was currently looking at. She whipped her head towards the voice and looked at Diarmuid's older brother, "Good afternoon," he had a smile on his face, almost teasing as she took it.

     Arturia took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, "He said he would help me get back to Logres."

     "I apologize, little lady," the man with blue haired huffed, "but that is not possible as he is to be kept safe in Hibernia. He should have not even travelled this far from Connacht. I will over look that because he was with Diarmuid and because it was a decision made out of his own volition...But he really ought to return home with the Fianna today."

     "Forgive me, my good sir," she eyed him for a short while, "but I think that is a decision that Prince Gilgamesh needs to make for himself."

     Cú Chulainn sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, almost mimicking Arturia's posture, "When it comes to His Majesty's safety, it is the Fianna that has to choose. It is a foreign land that is he on, and if he is injured, there will be consequences against the Fianna and Hibernia, not against anyone else. And I do not want my country in a meaningless war, because of a selfish young lady that wants to return to Logres but cannot seem to do it herself."

     "Selfish?" Arturia scoffed, "We'll see who is selfish when their entire world falls ap—"

     Diarmuid placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a smile, "Arturia, I believe that leaving Gilgamesh behind would be for the best."

    Her green eyes drifted up towards him and she gave him a small glare, "Well I do not think so." She shook him off and then shot her head towards the blue-haired man before she gave a last glare and stormed out.

     Diarmuid watched as she left and then turned towards his brother.

     "I still believe it is best for you to also stay and let her journey by herself. Camelot is not at rest right now, and I would not want you to get killed again." There was an expression of worry on Cú's face, but Diarmuid did not pay much attention to it.

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip and looked away from his brother and down the stairs that Arturia had left through, "On the contrary, I think that I need to see her off until the end of the journey."

     "Diarmuid," his brother sighed, "you know much too well what happens to women when you are around, and frankly I really do hope that she does not have you under another spell."

     "She does not." The younger man's voice was a low mumble but still full of certainty, "She is nothing like Grainne, she would not put a spell on me."

     "You are my brother, and I care a lot about you, as it is my duty to look out for you. Women have never brought you any good, I think that it is best for you to remain here...but as long as come back without a single scratch on your body, then I allow you to go ahead." There was a grunt, then Cú Chulainn rubbed his neck and walked down the steps again, "Just get back home in one piece, alright?"

     Diarmuid walked towards his brother and cracked a bright grin, "What do you take me for? I am the First Spear of Fianna after all."

     Cú Chulainn scoffed, "But not any better than me," he rolled his red eyes and scratched the back of his neck, "Alright, then you best be off."

     The younger man gave a small nod and brought the other into a tight embrace, "I promise to return in one piece. And unharmed as you wish."

     Cú Chulainn pulled away from his brother and rolled his eyes, "You best," he growled, "And bring me a nice girl too—one that will not fall in love with you."

 _There he is_ , Diarmuid grinned to himself as he saw that the outgoing and silly attitude of his older brother returned, "I promise that as well."

     The taller one wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and pulled him down the stairs with him, "Let us drink some mead before you go off." He ruffled Diarmuid's hair and made it even messier than it already was.

     Upon reaching the bar section of the tavern, Cú Chulainn tapped the counter top and ordered two goblets of mead right as Diarmuid sat down next to him. They began to catch up over the alcoholic drink and Diarmuid thought it best to tell his brother most of the information and adventures that they had been through. He had mentioned how he had encountered Youth and how he was still currently ill and that Arturia had almost died, _again._ But as the pair of brothers continued to talk and laugh, Diarmuid could feel a strange and odd sensation in his head; almost like static. His vision went somewhat blurry for the slightest of seconds until he blinked it away.

     "You look quite pale, are you certain that you can travel as you are?" Cú Chulainn had a worried expression on his features; brows furrowed, lips pursed in a line and all.

     Diarmuid shook his head and gave the best smile he could when he was lying—which was not believable at all, "Yes, I am perfectly well." His head gave a short nod and then he turned back to his drink. He could have sworn that for a moment, he saw the drink in his goblet bubble in an odd and nasty way. He gulped and let his hands inch away from the drink without making his brother worry again, "Actually," he turned towards the other man, "I think it best that Arturia and I should be on our way to Camelot."

     "You know—" Cú Chulainn bit his lower lip in anticipation, "—Arturia seems awfully familiar. I mean, without any bruises and actually seeing her eyes...she really resembles someone I've met before."

     Diarmuid turned to his brother again, as he had already stood from the chair and walked a couple of feet, "Familiar? But how could you possibly have met her before?"

     "I do not know..." The older of the two tried to search his mind for an explanation, "Does she have any siblings? Because I feel that I've met her in battle... I know that it sounds insane but she looks much too familiar for me to overlook it; it's bothered me since last night."

     "A sibling?" The odd sensation remained in his head and he tried to ignore it, "She has not mentioned any, as I believe."

     Cú nodded slowly and then gave a final smile, "Alright then, goodbye. I hope to be seeing you soon."

     The man with the beauty mark grinned and gave a half-hearted salute before heading out of the building and making his way to the horses. On his way there, he crossed paths with a smirking Gilgamesh who bid him a quick farewell with a triumphant tone. Diarmuid was a bit confused, but did not question it. Upon reaching his mare, he spotted Arturia who had somehow made it on top of her horse by herself (or at least he thought so) with rosy red cheeks. He smiled up at her and took the reins of her horse and his before leading them all towards the boat. It was more like a ship really because they were able to bring their horses and it was made for many people. "Did you bid your farewell to Gilgamesh?"

      Diarmuid had not caught the blush that crept on her face because he was paying attention to the small road rather than the young woman behind him. She did not respond to him and only remained silent on the horse, "I apologize that he could not come with us, I know that you took a fancy to him."

     "I did not fancy such an annoying prat," Arturia defended. She had huffed and blew some hair out of her face in exasperation.

     Diarmuid had now seen her annoyed expression and he let out a chuckle, "Yes, clearly, because that is why your cheeks are tinted pink."

     Her cheeks became a darker shade and she had to turn her face away from him, "That is because it is cold today."

     Obviously, that had been a lie for they were not wearing cloaks because it was not as cold as it used to be, and then Diarmuid began to think about what had made her act so flustered. Maybe Gilgamesh had something to do with it, and it made him somewhat uncomfortable to think that.


	21. XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *IMPORTANT*
> 
> Hello! I am back! How is everyone doing! I hope you all like this chapter! The first part of this chapter is supposed to take place when Arturia leaves the inn and Diarmuid stays to speak with his brother. Remember when Dia passes by Gilgamesh and he is smirking and then he gets to Arturia who is blushing? Yeah, the first section explains why she is blushing! I hope you all like it as this is the (probably) last time Gilgamesh is in this fic. And omg he's not going to be a rude idiot haha what a relief? Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb

     "So, you are not coming with us to Logres?" Arturia had spotted Gilgamesh sitting by the horses.

     Gilgamesh let out a chuckle and stood from the small bench—of course he was not seated on the floor for he was too posh for that, "Yes, unfortunately a prince cannot do what he wishes when his life is on the line."

     Arturia shot him a look, something between understanding and indifference, "Correct, you are," she mumbled as she walked over to her horse, "although, the more people there are on the journey, the better it is."

     Gilgamesh's smirk dropped and he took a deep breath, "You have my deepest regards," he had mumbled it.

     Arturia looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed as she was a little confused, "Pardon me?" She murmured and looked away a little bit as she fixed the horse's saddle.

     Gilgamesh sighed and walked over to her, "I do not ever show the feeling of empathy—neither do I ever feel it—so this is a rare occasion. You have my regards."

     She furrowed her brows and looked at him slowly, "Forgive me, Gilgamesh, but I haven't the slightest idea of what you are giving me your regards for."

     He walked towards her and wrapped her into a tight hug, "Do not make me repeat myself."

     Arturia was astonished and taken aback by being caged between his arms, "I am afraid I do not understand."

     He held her tightly, even a little possessively, in his arms; trying to be as comforting as was possible for him. But Arturia felt the certainty in his grip and she slowly nodded, "I heard the news of your father. I am very sorry."

     "I thank you for your concern, Gilgamesh, but I assure you that I am not feeling as sorrowful as you might think." She still tried to keep her straight face and silence. She tried her best to pull away from the man's embrace but his grip on her was secure and she was having trouble doing so, "Um...I believe it is time for you to let go of me," Arturia mumbled.

     "I am thinking of your position as King now and I do wish you all the best in your kingdom." Slowly and hesitantly, he pulled away and gave her a short smile, "God knows that I will soon be in the same position as you." His hands were firmly placed on her shoulders, holding her in place, "A country is hard to reign, but you must not carry the world upon your shoulders alone. Count on those around you, the ones that have demonstrated to be trustworthy. And even if you feel alone right now, you are not. There are people that are waiting for you to return and there are people, like Diarmuid, that really want you to return."

     Arturia looked at him, she had never heard him say something as meaningful and empathetic as he did. She slightly smiled, only lifting the corners on her lips as she looked up at him, "Thank you."

     Gilgamesh shook his head and sighed as if to rid himself of his nice ways, "Well, enough of that sentimental ordeal. We'll be seeing each other soon anyways; hopefully we can all our Kingdoms in marriage." He gave her a wink and she replied with a look of abhorrence.

     "I would like to decline your offer," she grumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest, she should have known that he was going to disappoint her soon enough.

     The red eyed man chuckled and then, out of the blue, his soft lips connected with her chapped one's in seconds. Her eyes were wide as his arms snaked around her waist and he brought her closer.

     Her heart beat hard in her chest and she was not really sure what she felt because it was somewhere between astonishment and embarrassment. Her stomach felt tight and her throat dried up.

     It took her a while to react, but when she did, he had already stopped the kiss and then kissed her cheek, "That was our engagement kiss." His hands slipped from waist and he gave her another wink.

     Arturia pushed him away as to show some sort of reaction and then she covered her mouth before wiping it and quickly mounting her horse with every force she had in her.

     Gilgamesh started chuckling and laughing before giving her a nod and waving her goodbye, "Until our wedding day," he grinned as he walked off.

     Arturia was blushing deeply as she huffed and looked away in order to calm herself down, "Until never." She replied harshly for she was flustered. No man other than Lancelot had ever showed her their feelings in a romantic manner and Lancelot had never been this upfront about anything to do with romance.

     As she tried to compose her raging heart and burning face, she saw that Diarmuid approached and for some strange reason she felt a tinge of guilt wash over her. She bit her lower lip and tried to think of a reason for that feeling but nothing came to her and she simply took a deep breath before Diarmuid arrived.

     "Are you ever planing to tell me how the farewell went? For I cannot decide whether it was alright or not because every time I mention it, you turn away with red cheeks." It had taken him a lot of courage and thought to bring it up as they were boarding the boat. The whole process had taken an hour for the people to get on board and any belongings to also be placed on board the ship as well. He had asked about Gilgamesh probably a total of three times before but she had ignored him all along.

     "There is nothing to say about it," she bluntly replied as they settled their belongings on deck; the ones they deemed more important to not leave them with the horses.

     Since she had turned her head, Diarmuid followed to where her gaze was settled and then caught her eyes again, "Then you should not be turning your head away, milady." He was trying to still sound respectful and not like he was eager to know the truth.

     Her eyes turned to slits as she glared at him and then she looked down, "He proposed to me, I declined but he thinks himself very persuasive."

     Something in Diarmuid's chest cringed and he had to bite back a harsh response, "Proposed? Are you going to marry him?"

     "Do you have a hearing problem that I am unaware of?" She furrowed her brows and sighed, "I declined. I am not looking for a husband right now, plus, I am already in a relationship with someone other than that prat."

     "Really?"

     "Well, it's rather complicated right now," she chuckled, "I mean I am supposed to pass as a man and he sort of has to be with my fiancée."

     Diarmuid tried to laugh along with her but it did not sound believable because she glanced over at him, "I mean, we are not actually in a relationship anymore because he now has to be with Guinevere. I believe I am only holding unto that relationship because as idiotic as it sounds, he was my first love. They say you never forget them."

     "And that they are always fated to be tragic," Diarmuid added, "I had a first love of my own. I had to give her up..." He mumbled.

     Arturia sat down on the dock and took a deep breath, "And what about Gráinne?"

     "What about her?" He followed suit to st next to her on the boat's floor.

     "You clearly felt something for her, right?"

     "No, I think that I have told you many times over now. I guess maybe a little bit of something deep down, but I had never truly loved her and she had never truly loved me either. The desperate look of love in her eyes that evening...it was a lie. A very sad and tragic lie..."

     Arturia looked at him and then she noticed how lonely he truly seemed. The lonely soul he had that she could see through his eyes and that was when she realized that when he was sick, he did not have a heart burn, but rather it was the pain he had been keeping inside all along. The pain he had felt of not truly being loved and the fact that he had fought his own friends for a forced love. She thought that if maybe he had truly loved Gráinne, then he would not have felt that sort of stinging in his heart. The emptiness in his chest would not be there and he would have not regretted his cruel fate.

     She had not known why, but she reached to take his hand in hers, in order to comfort him. When he looked over at her she only gave a small and soft smile before she turned towards the dock again. There were quite a lot of things that they both had in common and she was glad that he confided in her in order to show her how he truly felt inside.

     "I did not confuse you with Gráinne." His voice was hushed and as the boat rocked it was a little difficult to hear him, but she managed.

     Arturia chuckled and looked at him again, her heart almost stopping at the sight of his amber eyes. She felt a discomfort in her stomach but she pushed it aside, "How so?" She realized that she had whispered when she spoke and she caught herself right then as her heart felt a little heavy. She slipped her hand from his, well aware that the warmth of his hand vanished.

     "Because I never loved Gráinne. I must have been trying to tell you something about her."

     The ship had continued to be cradled by the sea as they fell silent and did not say anything else for the rest of the trip. They tried not to lean against one another as the ship moved and turned because Arturia knew that if she had any contact with him, she would feel the same feeling in her stomach and she did not want to feel that way.

     "Am I allowed to ask you who it was that you loved?" Diarmuid wanted to break the silence because he thought the the sound of the waves needed to be hushed for a while.

     Arturia glanced at him for mere seconds and the looked away, "His name is Lancelot..."

     "Oh, the one you confused me with when I was whistling?" Diarmuid leaned forward to see her face but it was not possible because he was only able to see a part of her profile.

     She gave a uncertain nod, "Yes..." It sounded as if she was still pondering the comment that the knight had made, "He was a good man to me and he was the only one of my knights to know that I was woman. I cannot say that I love him, because I know that love is different than my infatuation. I think that the reason I do not actually love him is because I knew that we could not be together. Our relationship ended when my father insisted he be the one to give Guinevere a child."

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and tilted his head, "Why would your father do that? Was it to spite you?"

     Arturia shrugged and took a deep breath, "No, it was because he already knew I was a woman, it was safe for less people to know of my sex."

     "Do you consider Lancelot your lover?"

     Arturia shot her head towards Diarmuid and blinked, in her dictionary a lover was something more intimate than Lancelot was to her, "We secretly courted, but nothing more than kisses. They were chaste, just to let you know."

     "That was not what I meant," he chuckled, "Do you think that he was the one for you?"

     Arturia sat thinking for a little bit and then flickered her eyes towards his again, "No one is the one for me, that is why I cannot allow myself to fully give my heart to someone. I cannot fall in love with every little bit of my being and so no one can be the man for me."

     Diarmuid inched closer to her and then gave her a small smile, "There is always going to be some one just for you. Plus, you would have to invite me to your wedding." He grinned.

     She chuckled and shook her head, "I do not know about that..."

     "You have to invite me, what if I'm the groom? A groom not invited to his own wedding," he winked and nudged her arm with his elbow as a blush dusted her cheeks, "But honestly, all jokes aside, you must invite me to your wedding when it comes. I'll do the honours of walking you down the isle and hand you over to Gilgamesh."

     "I am not going to marry Gilgamesh." Her jaw was clenched and the blush was gone.

     "Then you will have to settle for me because, frankly, we are the only ones that know you are a female prince and you do not want others to find out." He was chuckling and leaning back on their luggage.

     Arturia blushed again and scoffed, "Of course," she rolled her eyes in sarcasm.

     "Then it's settled. We'll wed on the first eve of the sixth month," Diarmuid winked and sighed.

     Her heart fluttered a little at his flirtatious comment and gestures. He was quite handsome even if there might have truly been a spell on him. The beauty mark was somewhat alluring and his amber eyes made her stomach turn when they locked with hers.


	22. XXII

     They arrived safely on the shores of Logres. The sweet sear air mixed with the creeping forest and the sound of crashing waves was relieving to Diarmuid because he preferred land over water any day. He had never travelled further than the shores of Hibernia and so it was somewhat frightening being in a foreign land because he knew not of the dangers it held...and for once he felt the type of fear that Arturia had been through in Hibernia. He shot his head towards her, realizing her sorrow and watched as her straight lips turned into a wide smile—one which he knew was quite real and heartfelt.

     "We should rest in that inn," she pointed at a seashore house as she turned towards him with that wide grin on her chapped-peach lips. There was a certain feeling in her chest that made her ecstatic to be back in familiar lands. It obviously felt much more different than Hibernia, much more accepting but also mysterious.

     Diarmuid took the reins of the horses and led them towards the building as Arturia tagged along and looked about them, getting to know and absorb her surroundings; letting the familiar feelings sink in along with the beauty of the beach.

     The log house by the seashore was rather big and rowdy due to all its new customers from Hibernia. The got off from the dock and walked on the cold snow-mixed sand. It took them a short while, but when they arrived and tied their horses; they walked in and analyzed their surroundings, looking over the people's faces and paying much needed attention to the small details.

     "We could stay the night," Arturia suggested as she called over the voices in the bar so that Diarmuid could hear her.

     "If milady wishes," he gave a small nod, "it seems like a lovely idea."

     Arturia clapped her hands once and then strode towards the front counter. She ordered two drinks and smiled brightly as she set them on the table that Diarmuid had chosen.

     "Milady," he looked down at it and gave a soft smile, "you shouldn't have."

     "I really should. Now, let us enjoy these drinks," she grinned and began to sip at her goblet of mead, "I promise to share a bottle of wine with you from my castle's cellar. It will be the best wine you will have ever drank. I promise you that much."

     "That was what Gilgamesh had told me when he handed me one of his Babylonian wines..." Diarmuid cracked a smile, "And I have to say that he was right, it is going to be hard to top him, milady."

     Arturia crossed her arms and leaned back on the seat, "Are you meaning to offend me, Diarmuid?" She crossed her legs and he could clearly see her royal attitude showing.

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip to stop himself from chuckling, "I meant no offense. What I meant to convey was wonder; I do look forward to tasting Camelot's best wines. It is my pleasure to be sharing a drink with such an honorable master such as yourself."

     "You flatter me," Arturia let her smile slip and she leaned on the table before them, "Though, I assure you that I am not all that great."

     "But you are, milady," he grinned and leaned forward on the table as well; bringing them much closer to one another. His amber eyes dropped from her emerald eyes to her lips and lingered there for a slight second before they traced her features back up to her eyes.

     Her chest swelled and she blinked at him for a short while, "You are all that and more." His voice was a husk and it sent chills down her spine. She had heard the change in Lancelot's voice when they were alone; and it sounded so much similar to that that she was scared he had the same feelings. _He still has a cold_ , she tried to give an explanation to the way his voice had sounded raspy and not think about how Lancelot would speak like that before he'd kiss her. It was her pounding heart that brought her back to reality. She quickly moved back and let the goblet of mead keep her occupied.

     Diarmuid slowly leaned back on his seat and took a deep breath, _She's definitely not interested..._ Upon realizing his thoughts, he gasped loudly and had to cough to keep himself from choking. What on earth was he thinking to be speaking to his master in such a way?

     "Are you alright?" She leaned towards him as people began to stare.

     "Yes, yes," he nodded as he steadied his coughs and breathing, "I am simply still a little ill, that is all. Do not worry yourself."

     "Oh," she gave a small nod, "alright."

     He stood from the seat and sniffled, "I will go order the room and then after I get the keys, we can go unpack."

     "Of course," she nodded slowly, "that would be delightful."

     She sat back on her chair and patiently waited until he returned. Arturia tapped her fingers on the table and looked about. She leaned her head on her hand and began to fidget with the goblet as she occasionally took sips of the alcoholic beverage inside. She thought about the sound of his voice before and bit her lower lip, _what if he does mean it in that manner? No, no, he is simply ill. I had forgotten to give him his medicine anyways._

     She had forgotten to put the drop of the liquid in his drink in the morning, so she was going to drop the medicine then. She smiled a little bit and kindly did as she had been instructed and then placed the vile on the table as she waited again.

     It did not take him long to return, it was actually pretty quick as he sat in front of her and finished the mead in silence. He glanced down at the small vile and furrowed his brows, "What is that?" He asked in a low mumble.

     "What is what?" She lifted her gaze from her drink and flickered it towards him.

     He lifted the vile from the table and rolled it about his hand, "What is this?" He showed it to her.

     "Oh," Arturia sighed, " _That_ , it is your medicine."

     "My medicine?" He lifted an eyebrow and set the vile back down on the table, "What do you mean my medicine?"

     "The herbalist gave it to me. It is Barberry juice to help you with the coughing that you have. She instructed me to give you a drop a day," Arturia explained softly.

     "The herbalist?" His amber eyes had widened, "How did she look like?"

     Arturia did not even question why he would want to know her appearance and so she shrugged, "She was beautiful, actually. Her hair was the colour between that of copper and rubies... and her eyes were like mine but a much richer colour. She had a lot of freckles; they made her that much more beautiful."

     "That is not barberry juice," he deadpanned and rubbed his face, "No wonder I've been seeing things." He growled as he stood from his seat and dropped the vile on the floor.

     "What do you mean?" She had flinched when the small bottle hit the floor and broke. There was no attention drawn because it had not made too much noise as to go over the crowd.

     He looked at her slowly, "That is not barberry juice. It is some kind of potion that that _witch_ wants me under again."

     "Witch? She _is_ a herbalist but that does not make her a witch, Diarmuid."

     "The woman you saw was not a real herbalist. She was the one who gave me this bloody love spot," he growled as he stormed off to the bedroom, quickly being followed by Arturia and the luggage she hauled behind her.

     Arturia heaved as she entered the room and walked up to him again, after leaving the luggage by the door, "Whatever are you ranting on about, Diarmuid?"

     He turned towards her again and sighed, "Arturia," he closed his eyes, "for how long have you been giving me those drops?"

     Arturia bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to recall, "About five days now," she mumbled, "I really do not understand because they have not affected you. In fact, I could say that you have actually gotten better."

     "Five days? And you never told me about it?" The look on his face made her feel as if she had betrayed him, but she shook her head and would have none of it.

     "You did not want to take medicine before and you kept saying that you weren't ill so I had no choice but to not tell you because I was concerned you would collapse again if you did not take it," she reasoned as she crossed her arms over her chest.

     "But I still have the right to—ugh! Fine whatever, what is done is done." He ran a hand through his hair and sat on the bed. Luckily, they had two beds and did not need to worry about who was to sleep on a bed.

     "I only wanted to help you..." Arturia murmured under her breath and walked over to her respective bed.

     He did not fail to hear her and slowly turned his head towards her, "Forgive me, I was being rude about the matter. I understand your intentions and I harbour no ill will towards you...I was only irritated with Youth and you were the only one around."

     "That still does not excuse you for being rude, Diarmuid. I understand that you are also upset, but you cannot take your anger out on those around you; that does you more harm than good." She laid down on the bed.

     "I am aware," he huffed as he kicked off his shoes.

     "What do you suppose it is that I have been giving you?" In all truth, Arturia did feel guilty for not asking him to give him the 'medicine'. In fact, at the given moment, she felt awful as she rubbed her hands together and did not even dare to face him.

     "I haven't any idea," he huffed simply, "I have been feeling very odd lately, though. It might be another of Youth's curses to get me to fall in love with her or something of that manner."

     Arturia closed her eyes and huffed, "Does Youth really hate you that much? She seemed rather lovely when I met her. Although, when she opened the door she had been very rude about it."

     "Arturia." A hand had landed on her shoulder and she almost jumped.

     "Yes?" She opened her eyes to meet Diarmuid's and let her hands fall limp so that she was not fidgeting with them, "What is wrong?" She spoke as she sat up slowly.

     "You need not worry about anything. You did not know about the potion, anyways." His smile was warm and inviting, much more different than his tone of voice had been little less than ten minutes prior.

     Arturia felt her chest swell a little and she felt relieved to hear his words. So much so that her cheeks were dusted with a light pink colour. Yet she also felt a little nervous, "I know it is not my fault. I only feel a little bit responsible for not bringing it up to you. To think of it, I could have accidentally poisoned you without knowing."

     Diarmuid let out a sweet laugh and sat down next to her, "I guess. But a simple poison cannot take me down."

     "What about a Cobra's poison?" She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms because he was starting to seem a little like Gilgamesh and that irritated her.

     " _That,_ I do not think I would survive," he nodded modestly and inched a little closer to Arturia, closing the space between them a little more.

     "I know that you would not." Arturia nudged his arm with her elbow and they both gave small laughs before he stood from the bed and walked back to his.

     "Well, milady, I wish you the sweetest of dreams." She caught on to his warm smile for a short while. She could feel butterflies fluttering around in her stomach for some seconds. The way his lips were widened, amber eyes wrinkling a little. But her gaze did not settle on his eyes, or his lips, instead it fell upon his beauty mark and she remembered the curse.

     "I wish you the same," she returned the kind gesture, but not as warm as his—then she settled into her bed silently and tried to get the butterflies out of her stomach and his face far away from her mind.


	23. XXIII

     She awoke to the bed next to hers creaking and loud and uneasy breathing. She slowly sat up from the bed and slipped out. Arturia made her way towards the turning figure and slowly set her hand upon his arm. He was hot to the touch, so much so that she retracted her hand quickly; as if she had burnt it.

     The man before her seemed rather distressed in his dreams. He was twisting and turning and his breathing seemed panicked. She reached for him again and slowly shook him—this time ready for the heat.

     He did not awaken at her first nudge, nor at her second. It took her three tries to wake him, and when he did, he gasped and sat up in an instant—their heads nearly colliding if she had not inched back. There was sweat glistening on his forehead and his hair was damp.

     "Is everything alright?" She tilted her head slightly and his head shot towards her. The expression he held made her wonder if he had even noticed that she was the one to wake him and had been standing next two him for nearly three minutes in silence.

     He took a deep breath and then his breathing evened, "Yes," he slowly nodded as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The shadows filled the room completely, save for the single ray of moonlight that shun through the cracks in Arturia's golden hair.

    "Did you have a nightmare?" She sat down on his bed next to him.

    "A little one," he replied, his eyes looking down and averting her gaze.

     She smiled at him, "It seemed very troubling; I wonder how your horrible nightmares are," she chuckled in order to lighten up the mood.

     He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "You should get back to sleep, sorry to have woken you." His voice was soft as he slowly spoke. She found his tone of voice to be rather adorable because it was still a little sleep driven.

     "It is quite alright," she smiled, "as long as you are feeling better, it is all that truly matters," she spoke as she stood from his bed and made her way to where they had left their belongings. "Do you want me to make you something to ease that nightmare?"

     "No, please do not trouble yourself," he yawned, "It is best for you to return to bed, milady."

     Arturia gave a warm smile and nodded, "You do not have to call me 'milady' all the time, Diarmuid. Arturia will do just fine."

     She saw him give a small nod, "Yes, mil—Arturia."

     Arturia chuckled a little and took out a red apple from her satchel and made her way back to Diarmuid, "Eat this." She had passed the fruit to the man and then strode to her bed gently. "Merlin says that tea soothes bad dreams... Since we have no water or fireplace," she wandered, "An apple is the closest thing."

     "Thank you," he gave her a small smile and then bit into the apple, "The nightmare was not all that bad anyway."

     "I do hope so," she smiled, "but if you feel you need to tell someone, you can always count on me."

     He made sure to take a mental note of that as he ran a hand through his hair. They both laid back down on the beds and stared up at the wooden ceiling. They did not speak to one another, but they also knew that they were both awake.

     It was about day break when Diarmuid made a sound, "Are you awake, milady?" He mumbled lightly, for if she was not then he would not waken her another time.

     "Yes, Diarmuid...but you should call me Arturia," she replied in the same soft tone he had.

     "Arturia, I do not feel too well...my head is pounding and I feel..."

     Arturia turned her head towards him and waited until he finished his sentence.

     "Lonely or something, I am not quite sure. I feel...empty, I think..."

     She had never heard such words come from anyone ever. Never from her lover, or from her friends... His words sounded foreign, but at the same time very familiar; almost as if she knew them on a personal level. It was not because of her amnesia, because that was a different feeling than the one he held in his voice, it was a different type of emptiness that filled her instead.

     Arturia was also unsure of why he would admit the feelings that he held deep inside, but she sort of understood him because she also felt the need to say something that she would normally not admit, "And I am fearful...I am very afraid of Camelot." She turned her body towards him and curled into a ball.

     She heard Diarmuid chuckle and she lifted her head from her bed, "You needn't feel afraid because I am with you."

     She smiled a little bit and sighed, "And you needn't feel lonely because I am also with you."

     They both laughed lightly and she could not help but let a wide smile form on her lips, "Thank you Diarmuid... Thank you."

     He yawned as he looked at the inn, as Helga had said, it was by the seashore...and rather rowdy even for the early morning. He rubbed his arm to keep a little warm and jumped from his horse as he thought about what was going to happen. It was getting hard for him to follow the Queen's orders, now that they were beginning to contradict with his morals and ethics. He took a deep breath and grit his teeth at the thought of what would occur if he did not follow the orders. It was not for himself, but rather for the good of Camelot.

     He had been told of the dangers that Camelot would face if Arturia became king, and even if he truly loved her...he was there to protect the kingdom, even if it meant to protect it from the king itself. Lancelot rubbed his face and began to make his way into the pub, keeping the cloak's hood over his head so that no one would be able to recognize him. He entered the building and rubbed his hands together because the ocean wind made the atmosphere much colder than it was back in his kingdom.

     Lancelot looked about the pub and sat down by the bar, "Hello, my good sir," he spoke without having to show his face, "I would like your cheapest drink." He was not much of one to drink, but he found it better to play the part of an ordinary traveller.

     "Alright, sir, but you just missed the boat to Hibernia." He heard that the bartender sighed as he set a goblet of his least expensive liquor on the counter before the knight.

     "I came to pick someone up actually," he began, "did you see a short girl with blond hair that of gold and emerald coloured eyes, perchance?"

     The bartender ran a hand through his brown hair as he winced at the thought of such a girl, "I am not sure. When were you expecting her?"

     "She told that she would be here in early March, I had forgotten what day..." Lancelot played with his drink so that he needn't drink it right there.

     "Hmm... actually, I did see one yesterday but she was travelling with another man. She was pretty short and I had originally mistaken her for the man's younger sister... but they seemed to be in a relationship to me; what with all the bickering. And that man was rather good-looking."

     "A man?" It was all Lancelot had caught on to. He felt a little tinge of pain in his chest as he scoffed and shook his head, "Is she still here?"

     "Why of course, the couple stayed the night. But I believe that they are leaving today since they only wanted the room for the night..."

     "What room are they in?" Lancelot stood from the seat as he took a swing of the dry liquid.

     The bartender chuckled, taking the situation as if the blonde woman was an infidel wife caught cheating on her husband, "You would have to wait because I do not want my establishment to be completely ruined. It would be best to wait outside anyway."

     Lancelot nodded, "Did they bring horses?"

     "Yes, they were moved to the stables behind this building."

     "Then I shall wait there, my sincere gratitude."

     Arturia was humming as she tied her hair up and walked to the food that Diarmuid had prepared earlier as he finished changing. She finished compiling her hair into her everyday bun and braid. She tried to tie it together with the blue ribbon but for some reason, her fingers were fumbling way too much.

     "Do you need help?" Diarmuid offered upon seeing her struggle with the ribbon in her hands.

     "Uh," she bit her lips as she tried one last time, only to fail miserably, "Please." She had given up mostly because her arms were starting to ache.

     "Let me take those," Diarmuid mumbled behind her and took the ends of the ribbon in his hand and began to tie the knot.

     She felt a little tenser than she had before and the feeling of his warm breath on the back of her neck caused a chill to run down her spine and a small blush to creep onto her cheeks.

     "There, I have finished." She heard his voice mumble again as his hands lingered in her hair, "You have soft hair," he laughed nervously.

     "So I've been told," she managed to say something without sounding odd, "Um, you can let go of my hair now..."

     Diarmuid gasped a little as he retracted his hands quickly and ran his right hand through his hair, "Forgive me."

     "No need to apologize," Arturia could not bring herself to turn to him for she felt a little uncomfortable. She sat down in front of the food and began to eat.

    "Arturia," the man spoke a little over a simple mumble and rounded the table to sit in front of her.

     She lifted the goblet of water to her mouth, "Yes?"

     "Can I have your hand for a second?" Arturia could see a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looked at her with confidence.

     She furrowed her brows and set the goblet down before rubbing her right hand. She stretched it and watched skeptically as he took it in his own left hand.

     Diarmuid lifted her hand to his lips and lightly set a kiss upon it, "Thank you, milady." He mumbled against the back of her hand and let her slowly slip it from his.

     She tried to suppress her blush and she immediately looked down, "Right. You're welcome for whatever you are thanking me for..." she suddenly seemed very interested in the food before her.

     "I am thanking you for being the kindest master I have ever had. I also thank you for comforting me in the early morning." His voice was nearly silent and very soothing. She was almost unsure that it was him speaking in the first place.

     "Alright, well, we should get going." She stood as she finished the food quickly and got her luggage before walking towards the door.

     "Milady," she heard him call as she was turning the door knob, "I apologize if I have made you feel uncomfortable; it was not my intention."

     She mustered up a smile—a rather fake one—and turned to him, "Do not fret." Her heart was beating in her chest rapidly and she ran a hand through her hair, "We best be off anyway." She turned about again and began to leave.

     Diarmuid let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair. He rubbed his face and ran his hands though his hair a couple of times before standing up and taking the luggage in his hands and following her to the stables. He took his time as he walked and made her go a farther distance ahead of him because he did not want to inconvenience her.

     "I cannot fall in love again..." she mumbled under her breath as she knew the feeling in her chest was much too familiar and it was causing her so much uneasiness.

     She entered the stables and right upon so, everything dropped from her hands and there was a gasp that escaped her lips. She took some steps back but she stumbled into a pile of hay.


	24. XXIV

     She entered the stables and right upon so, everything dropped from her hands and there was a gasp that escaped her lips. She took some steps back but she stumbled into a pile of hay. Tears weld in her eyes and she covered her mouth, "Lancelot," she breathed as she was prepared to cry.

     Lancelot fell to his knees and smiled down at her with relief in his features, "Arturia, are you all right?"

     She cracked a smile and brought him close to herself after having wrapped her arms around his neck, "Oh my goodness, what are you doing all the way here?" She buried her face within the crook of his neck.

     "I can ask you the same," he mumbled into her hair, "The entire kingdom has been looking for you."

     She chuckled lightly and he helped her up, even as she still had her arms wrapped around him and hay stuck tangled in her clothes and hair. Her heart was pounding loudly and she knew that he could feel it, but she was so glad that she was seeing someone that was so very important to her and someone that she recognized. She pulled away for a little bit and as she saw his familiar violet eyes and his dark purple hair, then she brought him back into the tight hug but kissed him on the lips this time around because she was overwhelmed to see him; her once lover.

     Lancelot was stunned at first but seeing as how she did not remember anything, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back.

     Arturia had completely forgotten where she was until a cough had interrupted their kiss and she shot her head towards the origin of the sound.

     Diarmuid stood there rather quietly and still. He was clenching his jaw at the sight of his master with another man, let alone kissing him; he even had his hand in a fist as the jealousy washed over him. He bit his lower lip hard and tried to calm himself down, _I am an_ idiot _... Of course there can be nothing between us._ He had completely forgotten about the fact that Arturia already had someone special before they met.

     "Oh, Diarmuid," she had a bright smile on her face and he could not bring himself to be mad at her when she looked so happy, "This is Lancelot," she beamed.

     Lancelot straightened his back and gave a smile as Diarmuid walked towards him, "Lancelot du Lac; trusted knight of Camelot." He extended his hand.

     Diarmuid eyed the other's hand skeptically and shook it, "Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Spear of the Fianna."

     There was a certain tension between the two knights as they shook hands, one that Arturia was oblivious to and even if they held smiles on their lips, they had other intentions behind them.

     "I have heard a lot about you," Diarmuid retorted upon feeling the need to start a conversation and let go of the purple-haired man's hand.

     "I cannot say the same for you," Lancelot chuckled to break the ice, "I hope all that Arturia has said about me has been good."

     Diarmuid crossed his arms and took a deep breath, "Milady would never speak ill of someone, as her _lover_ you should know, Sir Lancelot." Sass was clearly evident in his tone of voice, but the man before him thought none of it—or so he let on.

     "You are correct," Lancelot kept the smile secured on his pale lips.

     Diarmuid helped Arturia mount her horse and the luggage as Lancelot followed close behind with aiding them. After Arturia and Lancelot had caught up enough and let Diarmuid stay out of the conversation; they were able to continue their journey back to Camelot.

     "I am so glad to be able to see you again," Arturia allowed her horse to walk closer to Lancelot's steed, "In fact, I am so delighted that both of you were able to meet." Her head turned back in order to give a smile to Diarmuid.

     Diarmuid returned the smile but dropped it immediately once her head returned to facing Lancelot. He held the reins of his horse much tighter than before and took a deep breath. Gilgamesh had been different because it was evident that Arturia had no interest in him, but Lancelot seemed to prove to him that he too could become a jealous man.

     They rode for a while longer before they had reached a small village where they decided to stop by for shopping and food.

     Diarmuid kept his gaze always trained on the other man because he felt as if he could not be trusted. Of course that there was always that feeling when there was jealousy involved but it did not feel quite like a suspicion caused by jealousy but rather his 'warrior intuition', as he liked to call it. There was just something off about the Englishman's smile that threw Diarmuid off.

     The new trio walked about for a longer while as they analyzed what shops were suitable and most helpful for them. They had collected some herbs for medicine and even gone to get their weapons cleaned. It was not until late in the day when Arturia had suggested that they buy food for the voyage.

     They entered the store and looked about for a while, Diarmuid carried the objects that Arturia picked up as Lancelot would glance around them every now and again. There was a point where Arturia had piled too many objects on Diarmuid's arms that he had taken his eye off Lancelot, and when he returned his attention—the man was missing.

     Lancelot walked out of the store and sighed loudly as he played with his long hair, "Helga...I did not know that Guinevere sent a spy after me— _a stalker_ ," he corrected, his voice harsh as he rounded the building.

     "Hmpf," the lady that leaned on the wooden wall scoffed as she walked a bit deeper into the alley.

     Lancelot huffed and followed her cautiously, "I will kill her...in time; be patient." She did not respond and it caused him to roll his eyes, "They say that patience is a virtue."

     "Yes, but I am a witch; I do not believe in virtues and things of God," she rolled her eyes to demonstrate the density of the male behind her whilst she grazed her nails along the building.

     "I will kill her, _alright_?" The tall man growled loudly.

     "Well, make sure that you do succeed." Helga snickered as she turned to him, brown hair fanning about her in the process.

     Lancelot furrowed his brows and let out a chuckle, "And uh...who was it that failed again?"

     "Ha! You should not be one to talk, Lancelot."

     "Yes..." he grit his teeth, "but who was the one that got injured and had to flee?"

     "It was three against one. Alright? You had a one on one fight... with a rather weak _little girl_." She glared at him, her gaze almost burned through him, and he knew that she could if she wanted.

     Lancelot blinked and nodded, "Yes, a little weak girl that is such a great knight and was the cause of many men's last breath."

     "Are you praising her?" A dark eyebrow was raised as the female crossed her arms over her chest tightly.

     "You are a witch, you should have been able to kill them all with one spell..." He simply shrugged and made a silly face.

     Helga rolled her eyes, "Right...and you should have finished her off in that forest."

     "Enough about that," Lancelot was eager to finish speaking about the topic, "Just you wait." He hissed and then turned to leave.

     "You best finish her off." It was all he heard before he escaped back to the store where Arturia and Diarmuid had been shopping. He bit his lower lip as he entered the shop and then put on a big smile when Arturia got into view.

     "Lancelot! Where were you?" Her green eyes settled upon him and they immediately brightened.

     "Oh," he let out a short chuckle, "I wanted some fresh air."

     "I was thinking we buy some food and hurry off to Camelot, what do you say?" She inquired with a joyful smile on her lips.

     There was a pang of guilt that pained his heart as he looked down at the young woman and he bit the inside of his cheek in regret, "Of course, milady."

     Arturia widened her smile a little and then dragged Diarmuid to the counter so that they could pay for the items that she had selected. The rest of the day had gone fast because they rented two rooms from the inn and there was not much for Diarmuid to do other than sleep in the room that he shared with Lancelot.

     "So," Diarmuid sighed as he sat up from the bed and watched Lancelot shuffle about the room, "Arturia is your lover?"

     "Not anymore, or at least that was what she has told me..." Lancelot spoke, not facing the Irishman but rather continuing to do whatever he was busy with.

     "Was it hard to pretend not to have a relationship with a girl that was passing as a man?" There were many other questions on Diarmuid's mind, but he wanted to keep from tackling the other man.

     "Um..." the taller man pondered, "Not exactly; everyone seemed to feel it was companionship and a sense of community."

     "But what about Guinevere?" Diarmuid noted that Lancelot tensed at the sound of the name and he refrained from moving; _Bingo!_

     "What about her?" Lancelot glanced over at the black-haired man.

     The Irishman shrugged, "Do you love her now?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "Did you fall in love with her? Arturia told me everything...she told me the tragic love that you both share," he mumbled.

     The knight of Camelot stood straight and gave a hopeless smile, "I follow my King's orders; anything for the good of Camelot is what I have to make possible." _Even if it means killing my own lover._

     "For some reason...I do not want to trust you," he spoke plainly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

     Lancelot tilted his head to the right and watched the other man shift on the bed, "Do you, perhaps, have romantic feelings for Arturia?"

     Diarmuid gritted his teeth, "Do I have to have romantic feelings in order to show concern for my master?"

     "No, not at all," Lancelot shook his head and shrugged, "It is just that you are showing the same type of concern that I have for her; it is a little too much to not have romantic feelings. You should worry a little less."

     Diarmuid clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes as he looked away. His blood was already starting to boil at the sass that he had received from the knight of Camelot.

     They had left the inn during the early hours of the day in order to reach Camelot sooner. Upon reaching a clearing in the woods during the afternoon, they had decided to take refuge because it seemed that the rain would commence any second. The skies were grey and the clouds seemed heavy with rain, making the land fall into a small nap.

     They began to set up camp and left their weapons in a pile by the fireplace that they were going to make. It was looking much darker as they built the tent-shelter and began to make the fire. Diarmuid made lunch and served the other two. The rain had not yet fallen and they were beginning to think that it was never going to fall down.

     "Diarmuid..." He lifted his head at the sound of the woman's voice.

     "Yes, milady?" He gave her a small smile.

     "I think that it is best if you return to Hibernia. You are rather far from home and now that Lancelot is seeing me to Camelot, it would be best if you too return home..." Arturia looked up from her food. She had not wanted to say the words but she knew how it felt to be away from home for a long while, and she did not want him to feel that way.

     "I promised you that I would take you all the way back home, and I shall keep my word; with all due respect, milady." Diarmuid had been taken aback by the sudden conversation and his dark brows furrowed in concern.

     "Yes, I do thank you for your help, but Hibernia needs you more than I do," Arturia gulped as she saw that a pained expression washed over his eyes but was gone as quick as a wave.

     "But milady," he begged to reason.

     "As your master, I command you to return home, my loyal knight." She gave a hopeless smile even if something twisted in her chest.

     Diarmuid blinked a couple of times and shook his head, "Pardon me?"

     "You must."

     "Milady, why do you want me gone? After all this time?" It was true, he _was_ offended, but his tone was as steady as a drum.

     She did not want him gone... she simply did not want to be holding him back from what truly mattered in his life; his family and the Fianna, "It is an order."

     "But mil—"

     "You should leave for Hibernia soon," she mumbled under her breath and walked over to the shelter that they had created.

     Lancelot did not say a word, simply heard everything that was being said and paid attention to their tones of voices and how they had interchanged words.

     Diarmuid clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair, _of course this would not last forever_. He needed to stop building up fake hope and trusting people a little too much. He rubbed the back of his neck as he felt the rain begin to plop down on them, "I will leave for Hibernia once the rain stops." He gave a pained smile and walked back to the shelter and sat next to Arturia, "Thank you again for everything." He refrained from looking at her and watched as the rain had begun to fall.

     She smiled at him and settled a hand upon his head as Lancelot sat to her right, "Thank you as well," she ruffled his hair.

      They talked for a bit more about their battles until the rain cleared and they both looked up at the sky, and then at each other. There was an expression that they both held in their eyes; one as if they did not want to bid a farewell. But they stood and she shook his hand before bidding him a farewell, and he to her as well.

     Arturia watched as he mounted his horse and began to lead his mare to the north whilst she waved him goodbye.


	25. XXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay~! Welcome all! I -MsAtomicBomb- will be your operator for the day! Gather your tissue boxes and your feels. The ride will be starting shortly. Please buckle in safely, keep your feels and cries in the vehicle at all times. Remember to enjoy (?) the chapter because you are about to experience one hell of a Feels Roller Coaster! There will be mixed feelings and (hopefully) crying. I advise you to eat anything that makes you happy so that the time will seem to pass quicker.
> 
> Thank you again for choosing Fanfiction's Wonderland and I hope you enjoy the ride.

     "Do you love him?" Lancelot's voice invaded Arturia's mind as she looked in the general direction that Diarmuid had left about three hours prior.

     "What do you mean?" She tilted her head towards him, "I love you." She had said it many times to him and she knew the feeling that it caused her, and it was still there. Lancelot was her first love and she knew that she would never forget her feelings for him. There was a certain feel to him that was so precious to her; it brought her comfort and peace.

     "No, you do not love me." His voice was a whisper as his eyes were filled with remorse.

    "What do you mean? I love you, so much, Lancelot." She brought a hand to cup his face, "I love you." Lancelot had taught her that saying those words did not make her weak, and for the many years that she was with him, she knew that being in love was something very special.

     "No, you do not." He put his hands on her shoulders so that she could properly face him.

     "I do not understand what you are trying to say..."

     "No, you do not, and you _cannot_." He rubbed her shoulders with his big hands as he tried to keep her distanced from himself when he could see that she wanted to bring him into a hug.

     "Of course I do."

     His palms inched to her neck and he was caressing her face with his thumbs, "You do not, trust me."

     "Lancelot," she placed her hands on his hands, "What are you saying?"

     He shook his head slowly as tears began to weld in his eyes.

     "Lancelot," her voice was so loving that it made a tear slip down his cheek and then, he tightened his grip around her neck and pushed her down to the floor. She managed to gasp and fill her lungs with air before his grip became tighter. "Lancelot," her voice was chocked and in pain.

     "Remember," he looked down at her with sorrow in his eyes as he tightened his grip, "remember what I did to you! Arturia, stop being nice to me! Yell at me! Hit me! Resist, please!" His voice was hoarse and he was pushing her onto the ground much more forcefully.

     Arturia tried to pry off his hands as she felt the undying need to breath. She was trying to let air enter her lungs but the man before her was making it hard for her.

     "You cannot love me after all I did to you...After hurting you so much." His voice was wavering and she could see he was holding back tears as she clawed at his hands.

     Her face was turning red as the veins around her neck were beginning to show through her skin and he saw her struggling beneath him and the fear of killing her filled him again but he knew that it was better for Camelot. He _thought_ that it was better for Camelot.

     Her screams were coming out choked and she knew that nobody could hear her. She felt her heart beating much faster and her lungs crying for air, there were points of relief when she was prying his hands but those were only few.

_Her hands reached for the sword that was discarded on the floor, crawling on the snow was much harder than she had initially thought. Scrambling from the snow, she took a loose hold of the sword and turned towards the dark figure. His black cloak had made her always hope that it was truly not him. The weight of the weapon caused her shoulders excruciating pain, as she was on the verge of death; her body surviving on what itself had to offer. The cold caused her fingers to burn and turn a bright red. Her mind was taking forever to work and she finally gripped the sword tighter, afraid that it would fall out of her hands. She launched forward, using the weight of the weapon to guide her, but her blow was deflected easily by the much healthier man before her._

_Red. There was deep red that stained the rich white snow around them_ — _she could easily mistake the splatters as red rose petals; but everyone knew that flowers never bloomed during the dead of winter. One lone option remained_ — ** _blood_** _—and she could not tell if it was hers or Lancelot's._

_The man clashed swords with her and pushed her back with his own weapon, "Just stop it. It is useless; you have to die." She detected defeat in his voice. There was some sort of depression that it held, deep within a menacing tone; she knew that he wished not to believe the words that he spoke._

_She looked at Lancelot, but she did not know why she could not see his sweet and loving face; the face that she fell so in love with. The face that she wished she could spend the rest of her life with. Rather the face that was looking at her was not the face of the man that she loved. It was of a man that seemed so full of sorrow, a man that was defeated. He was there, but it was not him._

_Arturia was not able to hold her own sorrow and so she launched forward with whatever strength she had left, but as she did, she felt a stinging pain in her side as a gasp entered her lips. Her eyes drifted from the man she used to trust to the sword that had stabbed through her. She saw the blood making small rivers and creeks down the sharp weapon and she followed it to the hands of the person before her, "Why?" She whispered as she slowly looked up at him._

_Lancelot was silent as he drew the sword from her body and sniffled due to the cold air and to the sight before him._

_She fell to the floor, her loud breaths leaving puffs of warm air in the freezing wintry forest, "Why?" Her vision began to blur as she joined the cold snow, "I trusted you..._ why _?"_

_But before her vision went black, she heard the words, "Because, you had to die. Because..."_

_Tears slid down her face as she saw the man she loved for what she thought would be the last time. His face full of remorse and a lot of pain as he watched her breath heavily. He closed his eyes and turned around, "Forgive me," he mumbled before starting to walk off._

She gasped again as it all returned to her mind. His hands were clasped around her neck much too tightly that her vision was starting to fade. She wheezed as she lifted her hand and caressed his face, "I forgive you," she mumbled lightly before she dropped her hand as her sight was leaving her again. Arturia was satisfied with her last words as she began to drift off. She would still love him even if he was the one that was stealing her life away. His tender eyes, soft smile, warm touch, sweet voice; she deemed that was how she would remember him last. Not like the man that was before her.

     Her lungs were filled with air all of the sudden and she felt tears on her cheeks as she began to breathe again. She coughed (with much pain) as the man before loosened his grip on her severely and she managed to bring herself up, wrapping him in a tight hug. She felt him hesitantly wrap his arms around her waist and she felt him shake under her embrace. It was a wonder how she had gathered the energy to cling to him, because two seconds prior she was on the verge of death.

     He might have been a fearless knight in battle, but he was also a man with feelings and she knew as well as he did that he would never be able to kill someone that was defenseless and someone that he truly loved. Her tunic was soaked through by both the rain that had come and gone and the tears of the man, she held him close as he continued to weep and she kissed his head.

     Her breathing was harsh and she was still coughing and wheezing with a lot of pain. She patted his head slowly and tried to calm him down as he repeatedly apologized and she hushed the same words that she thought were her last. It was true, she had forgiven him and she would always forgive him, no matter what he did to her or what he would do to her.

     Arturia's head was thumping as she steadily took deep breaths and made her heart have the steady beat of a drum, "It's alright; I forgive you." Her voice was raspy and it hurt her throat way too much, but she needed to make it clear for him to understand.

     "I do not deserve your kindness." The tears slid down his cheeks as he held her tighter and closer to himself, "Forgive me for all the wrong I have done you, for all the hurt I caused you... _Forgive me_."

     His hair was tangled in her hands and the tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. She had loved him once. She had loved him so very much...and she still loved him. She loved him like a friend now; a friend that had returned to her after such a long time. She laughed as the tears fell from the corners of her eyes and she gripped him a little tighter—entangling her hands in his long hair even more.

     Arturia closed her eyes shut and laughed lightly as she cried, "It's alright, my knight. My friend...Lancelot..." She whispered so lovingly that he understood her love was no longer romantic, but it was so very pure.

     She heard his breathing change as he shifted within her embrace and she quickly opened her eyes upon hearing a gasp and the unsettling sound of slit flesh. Her eyes settle upon a woman with a sword in her hands.

     Arturia's jaw dropped as she followed the sword to her companion's back. Her green eyes shot back up to look at the woman that she recognized to be the witch that had attempted to kill her.

     "Lancelot," her voice trailed as her eyes were locked with the other woman's.

     There was no response from the man as she stood rapidly and took the sword that had been discarded by her friend little than a few hours prior.

     The sound of Lancelot's flesh slicing made her cringe as the other woman pulled the sword from his back. Arturia watched as her friend fell forward with a soft grunt. She lifted her sword and pointed it at the brunette before her. Whatever it was that was driving her with new found energy, whether it be adrenaline or revenge; she was thanking God for it.

     "Since he could not kill you, I have to do it." There was so much hatred in the woman's eyes that it stunned Arturia.

     "Because he actually has a heart, and you do not?" Arturia's eyes narrowed as the two females rounded one another, her voice strained and hoarse.

     Still feeling uneasy after her near death experience, Arturia tried her best to keep her head held high and whatever strength that she had flowing in her veins. She launched forward, pommel tightly grasped and determination focused on one objective—take the female before her down.

     Their swords collided with a loud sound that resonated around them. Arturia swung her sword to the left, but the woman was quick to block.

     Her grunts were hurting her throat and making her breathing much more difficult, but she soldiered on. She made a couple of more swings yet they caused her much more energy than she could replenish.

     Arturia leaped back upon the action of Helga commencing her attacks. She was quick to deflect the first blow with a twist of her sword and the sound of clashing metal rang in their ears.

     Helga interlocked her sword with Arturia's, but the royal was able to twist the other female's wrist to her advantage; bringing them close and the blades away from their faces. She pushed the witch's blade down with her own whilst she projected her body forwards, colliding her upper arm to the woman's chest and pushing her back.

     Arturia jumped backwards and lifted her sword to her right while she took a deep breath. She bit her lower lip and she glanced at Lancelot checking to see if he was alright, not being able to get a good look at her friend.

     Helga grunted loudly as she ran towards the blonde.

     Arturia analyzed the other woman's moves carefully before maneuvering her sword to the right and making quick footwork before dodging the reckless attack. She was quick to turn back and clash their weapons again.

     There were short attacks from Helga's part and more of a defense strategy from Arturia's. It was not a surprise when Arturia got the upper hand.

     The prince caught an opening from Helga's right and she did not take any time to attack. Helga deflected with a loud grunt and another and another.

     Arturia was caught off-guard when the Helga's blade stabbed her leg whilst the sorceress fell after Arturia's blade had tripped her.

     The blonde yelped loudly upon the feeling of the intense pain that shot from her left thigh and she tried her best not to lean on it as the other woman headed for yet another attack.

     She was being pushed back with every attack that she dodged, to the point where her back hit a tree. Arturia took a sharp breath and ducked as the brunette's blade was swinging to hit her in the neck. The sword hit the tree so hard that it got stuck and Arturia was able to escape the threatening situation.

     The warrior scurried to the middle of the clearing with a lot of pain and managed to stand straight. She launched towards the female that had been able to free her weapon from the tree and she knew it was the last attack that either of them made.

     They both gave it all that they had, but since Arturia was much more skilled in the battling field, it was her sword that stabbed through the witch's chest; while Arturia's right arm was able to get injured with a deep and long cut.

     Both the females let out a breath but it was only the opponent's last one. She need not say a single word because Arturia could read the fear in her eyes as the blood dripped from her mouth.

     It was not uncommon for her to take someone's life, but she could not bear to feel remorse for taking that woman's life.

     The knowledge of her bleeding friend returned and her head shot towards Lancelot who was now trying his best to grip onto life as he had rolled on his back to see the sky past the tree branches. "Lancelot!" She cried, running as fast as she could to his side.

     "Lancelot," she breathed as she lifted him from the floor and onto her lap, his head on her wrist, holding it in place with her hand and bringing him close to her chest. She brushed his hair away from his face with her right hand and she kissed his forehead.

     His face was pale, his lips chapped and a light purple shade. Grey eyes were half-lidded and the essence of life leaking away from them, "Arturia..."

     Her nose stung and her vision began to blur, "Lancelot," she mumbled past her breath whilst she caressed his face.

     "I love you..." He looked her in the eyes, his voice so weak and death-driven, "It is the last thing I want to tell you."

     She shook her head as a tear slid down her cheek, "No, no, you're alright...You'll be alright. You'll be just fine."

     "I..." he breathed past his dry lips, "I..."

     She could see his life slipping through his hands like water that she could not help him collect and she tried her best to smile.

     "I...love you." She could barely hear him and she intertwined her hand with his.

     "Come on, let's talk about..." she looked down at him as his breaths were becoming less frequent, "Remember when we would go hunting? When you caught that deer and I did not catch a single hare?" She forced a smile as the tears began to flow slowly down her cheeks, "And you made fun of me...you teased me for days. Remember that?" She nodded and he followed her.

     "Or—or that time when you pushed me into the creek and I was soaking wet for the entire day? A-and when Gawain, Bedivere, you and I had a drinking contest and I won? You were all puking and that lady slapped Gawain? Remember?"

     She saw him struggle to chuckle and he gave her a small and frail smile, "Forgive me...my love," his voice was even weaker and she could not stop the tears that fell to his face.

     "I forgive you,"

     "Know that..." his eyelids were beginning to close further and he only took a couple of short breaths at a time, "I will always..."

     "Yes?" She tightened her grip on his hand, hoping that it would keep him there with her. That his soul would be kept in place and she could stop him from closing his eyes for the last time.

     His grey eyes shut closed and she had to bite back her sob. The grip of his hand on hers fell limp and she squeezed his hand tighter before she let it slip away.

     The tears fell from her eyes and she let her sorrow go as she brought his limp body closer and caressed his face, "Lancelot, wake up," she mumbled as she looked down at him, awaiting his eyes to open, "Please. I know that you are still there."

     "Lancelot, please," she mumbled against his forehead whilst she kissed it lightly.

     She wailed loudly, tears streaming endlessly down her face. Her heart felt heavy and she did not want to feel the pain again. Her lips were only repeating one word as she held the lifeless body of her knight, her friend, and her once lover close to herself; " _Please_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back Ladies and Gentleman! I do hope you enjoyed the wild ride! Your exits can be found on the Home button above or the little x on the tab, or if you find any other exit that is convenient for you. We would like to hear from you, so please leave a comment to tell us if our service was adequate or for any of your concerns; the comments section can be found below. Remember, we are here to serve you! Thank you for riding The Feels Roller Coaster and please come again to Fanfiction Wonderland!
> 
> Again, your operator for the day was MsAtomicBomb and I hope you enjoyed the ride; come again soon!


	26. XXVI

     She stood alone over the makeshift grave that she had created for her friend as she mumbled incoherent words under her breath about her friendship and admiration for him. She had managed to cover him with the shelter that they had made earlier because she knew it was impossible for her to dig a grave whilst she was injured. It was hard for her to admit that he was gone, but she bit her lower lip and wiped her tears away; she needed to move on.

     There were no flowers to lay on his grave, but she ripped a part of her blue tunic and tied a pair of sticks into a cross, "Now you can wear my colours for eternity." She had ripped another part of her tunic earlier and wrapped it around his hand so that he would not perish alone and she ripped a part of his and wrapped it around her own wrist, "I am here for you," she mumbled sweetly and gulped.

     Arturia closed her eyes as she looked up at the sky, "I forgive you..." she whispered up to the air before turning on her heel and collecting her companion's discarded sword. She sheathed the weapon and limped towards the two horses that had been tied to a tree some meters away. She looked back at the camp and sighed, she would leave everything as it was.

     She mounted Lancelot's steed in silence past the pain in her left thigh and right arm then patted his head, making the horse that she rode follow empty beside them. Arturia planned to sell the Irish horse and get some money to stay in the village for a while before she collected herself and rode off to Camelot without a single stop.

     Arturia had made sure to change her attire because she knew that no innkeeper would accept her with a blood soaked and ripped tunic. She discarded it by the river and placed on a new pine green dress before heading back for the village that they had been in earlier.

     Upon reaching the small English hamlet, she offered the stable the horse for five hundred silver coins; it was practically free for such money, and the store clerk had accepted the offer, of course with a little bargaining. She was glad that he had taken the steed off her hands and she hurried to the inn with her late friend's horse.

     She passed by a mirror on her way to the inn and she could see the bruises on her neck and the blood in her arm staining through dark green dress. She was in a lot of pain, but she endured it; taking two black hairs from her horse to stitch the injuries later.

     She entered the inn and looked about the rowdy place, there was still a lot of confusion in her mind and she thought about why her friend had wanted to kill her in the first place. She knew that it would have never been him to come up with such a brutal plan, and whatever Lancelot and Helga knew, was now buried with them as well.

     She ran a hand through her hair roughly—her left hand because she did not want to cause her right any further pain, "A bottle of your strongest liquor." She stated as she settled about ten coins on the table.

     The bartender looked upon her with a skeptic look, "No harsh drinks for little ladies," he laughed.

     "Give me the bottle," she glared at him and put five more coins on the table—enough to buy two bottles of Irish Whisky.

     The bearded man looked down at the coins and counted them, "Alright," he set a large bottle before her and she put more coins on the table.

     "And a single room," she added and moments later there was a key in her right hand and the bottle in her left.

     She climbed up the stairs as she looked at the key in her hand. She squeezed it and then opened her hands a couple of times before someone bumped into her and she let out a cry of pain whilst the key slipped from her hand. She winced and turned to look at the person that had hurt her, "Watch—" her eyes widened as she saw Diarmuid on his knees looking for the key.

    "Sorry miss," he had not seen her face as he picked up the key and stood, "Here." He passed it over while he lifted his face.

     Their eyes locked for a second and she saw his expression change into a confused look, "Arturia? What are you doing back here?"

     Arturia tightened her grip on the bottle and looked down, "Something happened when you left..." she slowly lifted her gaze back up to him.

     "Is everything alright?" His amber eyes were full of concern and she was so grateful that she met him again.

     He watched as she slowly and hesitantly shook her head, her eyes slowly glazing over with tears, "No. Nothing is alright," she had never thought that she would have ever admitted something so hard. She could not ever have seen herself shed a single tear in front of a knight; a man that knew not of her pain.

     The difference between how she sobbed in front of Lancelot was that he knew what she was going through, and she was trying her best to hold her tears back—but with Diarmuid, she did not even think twice of holding her sorrow back, and she did not even think of stopping her tears as they slid down her cheeks, "I cannot..."

     The man before her immediately pulled her into an embrace and held her close to his chest as he pet her head to calm her down.

     "He's dead," her voice cracked and he could not stand to see her in so much pain, "he's dead, Diarmuid." She was gripping his tunic with her right hand as she had her left limp by her side while it held the bottle.

     "It's alright," he whispered into her hair, "It's okay."

     They stood in an embrace for a long while and he tried his best to calm her down. She seemed so weak but she had been strong to be able to endure that pain for even a few hours as she rode back. Diarmuid mumbled words into her hair as he rubbed circles on her back.

     Diarmuid had ushered her into her room and helped her to the bed with an arm wrapped around her shoulder to keep her close to him. He set her down on the bed and sat next to her with a kiss on her forehead, "Do you wish for me to get you a warm drink?" His voice was a soft whisper as he went to stand.

     Her hand stopped him from standing as it took hold of his wrist causing him to glance down at her, "No, just stay with me."

     Diarmuid let out a short breath and settled back down on the bed again as he took the bottle from her left hand, "You should not drink..."

     "It is not for drinking..." her voice was simply so weak and quiet that he felt a pain in his chest, "I was harmed."

     "Milady? We should get it treated right away!" He called out and looked at her, "Where is it that you were hurt?"

     "My right arm and my thigh..."Her eyes still seemed lifeless and depressed. It was as if she was stuck in a trance that kept her from showing any emotions other than the tears that sipped from her eyes absentmindedly. Her eyes puffy and red as she wished to wail.

     He looked over her dress and sighed, "You would need to..." he did not want to continue the sentence as he averted his gaze from her.

     "Remove it? I do not mind if you cut it instead... I care little for these sorts of things."

     He nodded slowly and stood to get the knife from the satchel that he had been carrying, "I do not want to hurt you, so please try not to move," he mumbled before sitting next to her and then began to cut through the dress. The sleeve was easy to cut off and upon doing so, he saw the nasty tare in her flesh, "Who was it that hurt you?"

     "The lady that hurt me the other time. The witch from the cabin."

     Diarmuid licked his lips and wiped his forehead as he stood to get a cloth and a needle from his satchel, "I am guessing that she was the one that..."

     "Diarmuid, I would rather not talk about what happened," she mumbled as the image of her dying friend snaked back into her thoughts, and she shook it to try and shake the image from her mind.

     "My sincerest apologies, milady." He mustered upon biting his lower lip in regret. The man closed his eyes momentarily as he searched his mind for horse hair he could use to patch up the wound, "I will return, I only have to get—"

     "I have some hair." She extended her left hand to show him the strands that were wrapped around her hand.

     He nodded and took a bowl in his hands, filling it with the liquor, he walked to her and took the hair from her hand and placed them into the bowl before dipping the cloth in too. He was quick to treat her injury and was able to stitch her up with a lot of groans from her part, and even had to lift her skirt in order to stitch her lower thigh. After the awkward silent stitching, he cleaned the area with the whisky soaked cloth and fixed her skirt before standing and taking a swing of the bottle.

     "Arturia, whatever happened in the forest when I left," he knelt in front of her with a solemn tone, "It is not your fault."

     Arturia was not looking at him, in fact her gaze was trained on the window as she seemed distant from the world.

     "Arturia," he cupped her face in his hands and gently turned her head so that she would look at him. He looked over at her and noticed that her neck was bruised and he could see faint petechiae on her cheeks and he was surprised he had not seen it before, "You need to know that it was not your fault. It is _not_ your fault at all."

     She looked upon him and took a deep breath before shaking her head, "It was because of me..."

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip and shook his own head furiously, "It is not. Arturia, look, when people do something, it is not because of others. They do it on their own accord, alright? People hurt you on their own volition; you don't have anything to do with it."

     "But if—"

     "No. Arturia, _no._ It is not your fault _at all_."

     She could see the meaning of that sentence behind his eyes, as if he once had done something terrible and he told himself (or someone had told him) that it was not his fault; she could see the pain—still. So very evident in his light eyes, just like an insect's fossil frozen in time and stuck in amber.

     She closed her eyes for a little while and a tear slid down her cheek. She felt Diarmuid wipe it away with his thumb as she slowly nodded, "Okay." She did not take his advice, she simply had mumbled it because she did not want him to repeat it again. _It was because of me._

     Diarmuid had awoken first. His eyelids slowly fluttered open to the sun upon his face and he squinted as he turned his head away. His chest felt heavy and he thought that that was what had caused him the short nightmare of his death. He breathed in deeply and went to stretch his—rather uncomfortable—left arm. That was when he noted that Arturia was snuggled up next to him, her head on his chest and her left arm draped limply around his torso. He rubbed her back a little as he laid his head back on the pillow. His heart was starting to thump faster and he wished that she couldn't hear or feel it.

     He bit his tongue as he sighed, _I should not be thinking this way considering what happened to her._ He had always been a respectful man, and Arturia was no exception—in fact no woman was an exception. He knew that even if he felt a little nervous before her, or his heart beat a little faster when he saw her, or even if goosebumps formed all over his body upon even the slightest bit of contact with her, he would never take advantage of her.

     He had wanted to kiss her cheeks even—if he daresay—her lips as she cried so that he could kiss away her pain, but he couldn't and he wouldn't. He would only hug her and act as a supportive friend, not as a lover. She had just lost her own lover, why would she have ever simply forgotten him so quickly and let Diarmuid kiss her?

     He felt a slight pain in his chest but he dismissed it again as he felt her shift in his arms and gasp. She groaned in pain and flinched slightly as she lifted her head from his chest slowly.

     "Good morning..." he watched as she sat up and held the blanket closer to herself.

     Her head turned towards him and she ran a hand through her hair, for the slightest of seconds he wished that he could see her just like that—waking up next to him—every morning.

     "Good morning," she mumbled, "I think I need to wipe my arm with the alcohol again, I was not able to sleep very well."

     "Oh," he sat up and slipped out of the bed, "I will prepare the cloth for you, it is best if you stay still and rest for a while longer."

     Her head lifted from her injury to view him, "You have my thanks." Arturia took a deep breath and ran her left hand through her hair again, "My throat hurts..."

     Diarmuid glanced over at her and bit his lower lip, "Did she strangle you again?" There was clear concern in his voice, she could tell that he was quite upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, just a quick poll! Who do you ship Arturia with the most?
> 
> Gilgamesh x Arturia
> 
> Diarmuid x Arturia (Vote honestly though, not just cause they are my OTP ;P)
> 
> Lancelot x Arturia
> 
> Archer (EMIYA) x Arturia
> 
> CuChulainn x Arturia
> 
> Anybody else (Specify) x Arturia
> 
> Crack x Arturia
> 
> Excalibur/Caliburn x Arturia
> 
> That random tree that appeared in episode 7 in the corner over there somewhere x Arturia


	27. XXVII

     Arturia had not responded, never had she answered his question. Instead, she took a deep breath and sat up slightly straighter with a small yawn. She noted, out of the corner of her eye, that he watched her every move and she gave a loud sigh, "I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me, Diarmuid," she stretched, suppressing the squeak that had threatened to slip from her lips when she moved her right arm.

     A blush crept onto Diarmuid's face as he immediately drop the subject and soaked the cloth in the alcohol. The reason he had been looking at her was because he had been awaiting her reply but he now knew she would not tell him a single word, "Forgive me, milady," he mumbled under his breath as he walked towards her with the cloth in hand.

     "It is still rather cold out, do you not think so?"

     He nodded as he took a deep breath and sat next to her, "It must be because of the rain."

     They were making meaningless conversation at this point, just trying to say something so that the room would not feel silent or empty. He responded to her every question because he wanted to show her that he was there for her and that she was not alone. There was barely any emotion in Arturia's voice as she spoke to Diarmuid whilst he washed her wounds over with the alcohol soaked cloth.

     Arturia had been speaking about archery and jousting when she winced in pain upon the burning sensation on her thigh. She muttered something in English that he did not quite understand for he was not very fluent. She grit her teeth a little and mumbled the word again—which he identified to be 'damn', but he was not quite sure what the word meant. He guessed it was a curse word, but he still could not fully translate it.

     "Forgive me for hurting you," he managed to breathe in Gaelic still. He had retracted his hand and glanced up at her to await her answer but she did not say a word, she did not even signal him to continue cleaning the stitched area.

     He noted that her head had dropped as she looked over her injury, her green eyes running over the wound as if they were reading a novel, "We need to go bury him properly." Her voice was so very soft, almost inaudible had they not been close. In fact, he had not understood her mumble at all, he had simply thought that it was the most reasonable thing for her to say.

     "You want us to return to bury him?" He repeated as if to assure her if that was what she truly wished for.

     Arturia nodded and she mumbled a small 'yes' before standing and letting her dress drop back down to her ankles. She rubbed her face with her left hand as if trying to wipe away her sorrow and depression. She could not cry, she did not know why. But even if she wanted so badly to scream at the image of Lancelot in her arms, she simply could not.

     As she looked absentmindedly out the window, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders. She took a deep breath and let it out steadily as she closed her eyes and leaned back into Diarmuid's chest. She felt safe in his arms; there was reassurance in his warmth—like love or simply friendship. She slowly landed her left hand on his arms as a tear slipped from her eyes and she shuffled in his arms to return the hug.

     Diarmuid rubbed circles on her back as she loosely held him in the embrace. She was not crying, she simply felt alone and the feeling of his arms around her was reassuring to her, as if he was keeping her in place so she too would not slip away like Lancelot had.

     He felt her grip tighten on his torso and he patted her head and they just stood there. _Silently_.

     Diarmuid had insisted that she stay behind, but she was more persistent than he thought she was. As he rode his horse to where they had set up the camp before, and where Arturia had to see her life fall apart a bit more, she followed close behind. They rode slowly past the tall trees, Diarmuid taking even breaths every now and again. He would bury her friend as he had promised—he would not be selfish and simply cover him with branches, but he would dig a hole and lay him to rest properly.

     It had taken them a couple of hours to reach the campsite, and he made sure to leave Arturia and the horses a good twenty meters back as he walked towards the bodies. He was partially glad he had found it because he really had not wanted to see the decomposing bodies before him. In fact, he had really regretted making that promise to her because it was certainly too much for him to see the bodies on the floor.

     Okay, do not mistaken this situation. Yes, he was a knight, and he had taken the life of many people—that much was true. He had helped bury his comrades when they had perished and had even died himself. But... there was something different about the scene before him and he really did not like it. There was a certain feeling in his chest that the scene caused and it made his stomach feel uneasy.

     He took the shovel out from one of the straps behind his back and tried not to take too much of a deep breath because he did not want to inhale the horrid smell of decomposing flesh. He looked over the scene and spotted the female that had attempted to kill Arturia twice already. Whatever her reason, he would bury her too—of course he would not bury them together though.

     He began with digging the grave for Lancelot and it took him quite a while because the soil was still pretty hard from the winter. He mumbled a small prayer before pulling the deceased man into the grave and covering him up, placing the cross that Arturia had made over the new grave.

     He was extremely tired and he had wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, but he wiped the sweat from his forehead and began digging the other grave for the woman. Still in the clearing but much farther away from Lancelot as was possible, he began digging as the day grew older and the sun prepared to fall asleep.

     Diarmuid managed to finish digging right as the sun was kissing the earth for the last time that day. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow and leaned on the shovel a for a short while, he should have brought water with him.

     Upon finishing his work, he took a deep sigh and stretched so that he was able to crack his back. He said another prayer and walked back to where he had left Arturia alone. He walked solemnly towards her as she came into view and upon seeing her head resting against a tree trunk and her eyes closed; he stopped dead in his tracks. He watched her chest rise and fall with her steady breathing and then he closed his eyes. He had wanted to hug her, to let her cry on his shoulder.

     A wave of guilt washed over him and he took a step back when he realized that if he had not left her alone, she would have not had to seen Lancelot die; he would have been able to protect Lancelot for her. He would even have been willing to die for her to be happy...for her to be smiling, for there to be light in her green eyes—not emptiness.

     He heard a little gasp and he looked back towards Arturia. Her eyes were open and she held a hand to her chest.

     "Oh dear," she breathed heavily, "You frightened me."

     "Forgive me, milady," he managed to mumble as he watched her even out her breath.

     He noticed once she parted her pale lips as if to say something, but she stopped herself so she could take a breath. Her lips settled back to a straight line and she made an effort to stand, but she managed only to grunt in pain.

     "Milady," he rushed to her and knelt in front of her, "Are you alright?"

     She gave a weak smile up to him and she shook her head, "No, my leg is aching; it hurts a lot." She could barely move without some sort of pain emitting from her leg.

     Diarmuid nodded slowly and helped her stand. "We ought to hurry to the next village and get a proper doctor to treat you."

     "There really is no need for that..." Arturia trailed as she limped to her horse with the help of Diarmuid at her left arm.

     "I believe it would be best for your health if we do."

     "I wish to get to Camelot as fast as possible," she stated, her tone of voice simple and lifeless.

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip and sighed, "Arturia," he glanced at her, "How do you plan on getting to Camelot like that? You will surely be stricken by disease and—God forbid—die on our way to your kingdom."

     Arturia looked at him and then she looked back towards her horse, "I guess that you are correct."

     The Irish knight nodded and helped her upon her horse, "We must hurry off to the next village before it gets too late, and we will rest there until you are better."

     "If that satisfies you so," Arturia mumbled.

     "It will," he smiled softly as he mounted his mare, "I will be satisfied when you are safe."

     It was very late when they reached the next village, and Arturia had had a fever that was starting to make him worry. Her leg seemed worse than when they had begun to move and it made him afraid even more so. They rented a room and he helped her up the stairs after sending the horses to the stables. Since it was much too late in the evening—nearly mid-night—they could not get her a doctor until the mid-day.

     After Arturia had shared the bag of coins that she had, Diarmuid counted the expenses of the Doctor and the inn. He knew that they would need to remain in the new village for some time; probably more than a week, and they did not have the sufficient funds to stay for that long. But he would find a way to let her rehabilitate first.

     He had set her down to sleep a while ago, as he managed to clean her wound with whisky again and let a cool cloth on her forehead to cool her fever down. Once the sun came up, he would find a doctor and hurry him to Arturia.

     He could barely sleep as he leaned on the headboard of the bed, seated next to Arturia. He was feeling uneasy and he needed to make sure that she would be fine all night. He knew he could not sleep a wink, because if anything happened to her, he would feel responsible. He already felt responsible for her injuries; and he did not want her getting sick even more so.

     The night was very long, and he only wanted to sleep, even if just for a short while. He sighed and closed his eyes to rest them, and he opened them not long after. He really did care about her; and he noticed that around the late hours of the night—when he contemplated on his life and on love. It made him wonder...What was love? _Truly_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which Anime did you like better?
> 
> Fate/ Stay Night (I have yet to watch this, but the animation keeps stopping me :$)
> 
> Fate/ Zero
> 
> Fate/ Stay Night: Unlimited Bladeworks (Just finished that and I am still screaming)
> 
> Fate/ Kaleid Liner Prisma Ilya
> 
> Remember to tell me! And I hope you all have a great day!


	28. XXVIII

     "Well, she really does need to rest for a long time...but she told me that she really must get going so I think that a week and a half should be alright for her recovery." The doctor spoke to Diarmuid as they stood by the door of the room, "I have a few herbs and medicine that would be good for her."

     Diarmuid nodded, he was prepared to pay whatever the price was, "A week and a half? Are you certain that it is enough time?"

     The doctor sighed, "Well, it is the minimum amount of time she can rest for, that being said—she cannot be doing any hard labour or rough activities for the next month or so... If she does so, it can jeopardize her health."

     "Of course, I'll make sure that she does nothing to strain herself."

     He gave a nod and waited until Diarmuid gave him the pay and then left. Diarmuid, on the other hand, bit his lower lip as he gave the last of their funds to the doctor. They only had rented the room for another night and he did not know what he was going to do to let her rest in a comfortable room for the rest of the week. He would have to work, but no one would hire him for a simple week.

     Diarmuid glanced over at Arturia, who lay silently on the bed, and sighed, "Milady," he began—but did not even know what he was going to say—"Uh, I have to find some money..."

     "Was the doctor expensive?" Arturia turned her head towards Diarmuid, and he could see the lack of emotion in her eyes—as if they were still clouded over.

     He gave a small nod, "Do you think that you could be alone for a while? Whilst I find a short job?"

     "I do not want to be alone," she mumbled under her breath, "You can go ahead, and it's alright."

     "I will be back by mid-day to make you some lunch, I promise." He bowed his head and proceeded to the door.

     "Diarmuid," her voice stopped him by the door, "Thank you."

     "I'll see you in mid-day," He gave her a small smile before ducking out of the room. Diarmuid continued down the stairs of the inn and decided it was best to ask the bar owner, but he personally had no jobs to offer, so he sent him out to places that could give him some sort of work.

     The young knight looked down at the list that was given to him, and then he went on his merry way. The first few shops had rejected him because he would only be working for less than two weeks, and they were not willing to give their money to him.

     "What skills have you?" The blacksmith looked him over.

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip, "Heavy labour is something I could do for you. I do not know much about making weapons, but I can sell them very well. I am a knight, I can convince others that your merchandise is as good as any."

     The blacksmith thought about it and then called for his wife. The older woman rushed down the stairs and settled her gaze upon Diarmuid, "John, why did you not tell me we had company?" She rushed as she fixed her hair and dusted off her dress.

     "He wants to work for a little over a week, what do you say?" The blacksmith asked her and crossed his arms over his chest.

     Diarmuid felt like he was being judged; as if he had a significant other and he was meeting her parents.

     "I think that he would be such a perfect worker!" The woman clapped her hands together, brown curled locks of hair bouncing about as brown eyes glittered.

     Diarmuid's face lit up at the sign of approval, but the blacksmith was not bought so easily, especially at the sight of his wife making googly-eyes at the young man before him. Instead, the man gave a loud groan, dismissed Diarmuid and made him leave the shop before he was kicked out.

     This scenario seemed to repeat itself a couple of more times and now he was out of hope. He kicked the dirt up as he walked back to the inn, it was not even mid-day yet, what was he going to tell Arturia? That such a strong knight of the Fianna—a renowned band of knights—could not even land a job, "Stupid mole," he hissed under his breath in defeat.

     He lifted his head quickly and shook it, "No, no, I refuse to give up now. I'll try one more time." He was determined—even if he had to clean the stables; he would. No matter the job, he would do his best.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small establishment. _Café Morning_ ; the sign read in red letters. He nodded at himself for reassurance and walked towards it, they were bound to be accepting. He licked his lips before entering the shop and took a deep breath.

     He strode in and it seemed that there were only uniquely dressed women inside the shop—he already knew it was not a very good idea because of his beauty mark.

     "Hello, sir, how may I help you today?" the blonde girl at the counter winked at him.

     Diarmuid gave a courtesy smile, "I—well, I am looking for a job offer that only requires me to work for a bit over a week, is there anything that I could do around here?"

     The blonde female before him giggled and nodded, leaning on the counter to get closer to him, "Me?" she smirked and winked at him.

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and tilted his head, not understanding her at all. He wasn't asking about her, so why did she relate it with herself?

     "Trix, please don't flirt with the customer," he heard a husky female voice from behind him, "First you ask him who he wants."

     Diarmuid turned around to see another blonde female, her eyes green—much more daring than Arturia's. A red loose dress hugging her and not failing to show bare shoulders and neckline—a little scandalous on Diarmuid's part; but he was not there to judge her choice of clothing. Her blonde hair was a messy up-do that let her frizzy hair make her have a flirty look. Rich red lipstick decorated her lips and for a second he thought of how Arturia would look with that shade on her peach lips instead.

     "Hello, sweetheart," the woman smiled, "my name is Clara, I have not seen you in town before..." she skimmed him over.

     "Well, I am only here for a week and a half, and I sort of need a job. I was wondering if you offer any in this café." Diarmuid looked about and finally noticed that it was darker than normal. The windows were closed with a red veil and it turned the entire café red.

     "Well, we _are_ in need of some men..." the woman looked him over again, "and you've got what it needs; how about it?"

     Diarmuid blinked and shrugged, "I am not quite sure what I'll be agreeing to, though."

     "What do you mean? You are _here_ for work, correct?" Clara tilted her head.

     "Well yes, but—"

     "Then, let's head downstairs." She hooked her arm around Diarmuid's and led him towards the stairs.

     "But wait, what would you have me do? I can bake, if you need an extra baker," he reasoned.

     Clara stopped in her tracks atop the stairs and then turned to him, "Bake? But why would you need to— _Oh_!" She started to giggle, "You want to work at the _café_?"

     He furrowed his brows and nodded lightly.

     Clara burst out into light chuckles, "Wow, what an innocent young man. And here I thought I could get some money out of you... Alright," she sighed, "You see, this is not exactly a café, young man. This is one of those places where _lonely_ men or women come."

     "What does that mean?" He knew there was a meaning behind her words but he did not understand them.

     Clara laughed again and then leaned close towards him to whisper some words into his ear. Upon hearing them, his eyes grew wide and he shook his head rapidly, "That is not what I am here for, oh my goodness, I am so, so, _so_ sorry."

     "I am very sorry for interpreting your innocent request in a different manner, young man," she smiled a little teasingly, "if that is the case, we cannot offer you any work here."

     "It's quite alright, thank you," he bowed slightly and made his way out of the building—Okay, so he was not willing to do _'anything'._

     Finally feeling defeated, he decided he would walk around a bit before he went back to Arturia to tell her the pitiful news.

     He wandered about the small little town and watched as everyone went about their daily lives. The townspeople were pretty average—if he had not gone through utter hell finding a job; he would have thought it was almost like his home town.

     "Oliver! Oliver!" He heard someone call, and then an elderly man rushed up to him and took his hands in his. Tears flooded the grey eyes of the man before him and there was immense pain in such a simply look.

     "Um," Diarmuid stood dumbfounded just staring at the old man before him.

     "H-have you come to visit me? It is so good to see you again, my son." A grey beard hung from the man's chin, and his hands were shaking slowly due to his old age, "I've missed you."

     Diarmuid was only able to hug the man back upon feeling his weak embrace around his torso. He wasn't this man's son, but he wished he really was. There was melancholy that lingered around them as the man pulled away.

     "How is Martha? The last I saw her, she was ill; is she doing better? Do I have a grandson yet?"

     Diarmuid took a deep breath, "S-sir, forgive me, but I am...I am not your Oliver." Those were some hard words to say, especially when he did not want to disappoint the man before him.

     The man's eyes slowly widened and he ran his eyes over Diarmuid's face a few times, "I-I deeply apologize, my good sir, you just—you..."

     "I understand." Diarmuid nodded solemnly.

     "Oh, do forgive me," the old man mumbled as he covered his face, "Good day." He bowed and then hurried off to pull his wagon.

     Diarmuid watched him for a short while and a wave of sadness washed over him, "I can help you, sir." He offered to aid him with the wagon so that he would not break his back with it.

     "Where do you live?" It had taken quite a while for Diarmuid to convince him that it was alright and that he could help him for free.

     "Up there," the man pointed at a house on top of a small hill.

     Diarmuid's gazed flickered to the hill and then back at the man before him, he thought about the trip that the man had to make up the hill every now and again and he was surprised that the old man still had it in him to even leave his house.

     "My son... He left to go to the big city. He told me that he became a knight in Cornwall, he even got married. He visited with his wife once, Martha, but she was ill and we were not able to enjoy the vacation with her too much..." Tears glazed over his grey eyes, making them look like jewels, "But then...I got a letter from Martha, he had died."

     "I-I'm sorry."

     "It's alright," the man smiled, "when I saw you, I thought it was a lie. Thank you, by the way, you're a kind man."

     "My name is Diarmuid, sir."

     "I am Thomas," he mumbled as they reached the front gate of his home, "Well, thank you again, Diarmuid. I apologize once more, and I hope for you all the best."

     "Sir, I am staying for a week and a half, and I can help you with anything that you need help in." Diarmuid thought that since he had nothing else to do, he might as well have helped this man.

     Thomas slowly shook his head, "It really is not necessary, son. Plus, I have nothing to offer you."

     "It would be my pleasure, and I can work for free." The knight gave a kind smile.

     "Thank you, Diarmuid, I would really like that."

     "I can start in an hour, I have to make some food for my partner first."

     "Oh, that's alright... Where are you both staying?" The man had decided to ask.

     "The inn, but hopefully I can find another place because there really isn't enough money to pay for it..." Diarmuid laughed nervously and gave the man a nod.

     "You can both live in my home, for as long as you stay. You are going to be helping me and it is the only way I could repay you for your kindness. My wife is not around anymore, and the house gets lonely. It would be good to have young people around for a change."

     Diarmuid's heart clenched and he gave a pained smile, "Thank you so very much. I would really like that, and I'm sure Arturia would too."

     Thomas had a smile on his face and waved Diarmuid off as he jogged down the hill and all the way to the inn to tell Arturia the good news.


	29. XXIX

     Arturia shot her head to the right when she heard the door clicking open. Her eyes slowly opened, "Diarmuid?" Her voice came as a soft sleep-driven whisper.

     "How are you feeling, milady?" He smiled down at her as she entered the room.

     "My head is aching..." She mumbled, "Did you find a job in the village?"

     "Yes, I did." He gave her a bright smile, "Well, more or less a job."

     "What will you be doing?" Arturia tried her best to sit up slowly and less painfully.

     "Well, I will not be getting paid in silver or gold coins either," he began by breaking the news as he went to search for some food in his satchel.

     "Then how—"

     "I will be working for an old man, he owns a house in the hill up there and he is willing to have us stay there for the remainder of the week."

     "Wait a minute, an old man?" Arturia sighed, "Okay, thank you for trying, I know that I put you in a very hard predicament, but accepting a stranger's request to live in _his house_ ; isn't that a little too trusting?"

     "Milady, I think that you have misunderstood...He is a very sweet man, he has lost his son and his wife. He's very alone and I think that it would be a good idea if we were to join him only for a week." He had begun to cut some vegetables as he explained himself.

     She ran a hand through her hair and blinked, "I am not very convinced..."

     Diarmuid raised an eyebrow, "Would you rather have me working in a brothel?"

     "What?" She blurted as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, "What does that mean?"

     "A brothel is where—"

     "I know what it is," she hissed as she tried to stand, "but why on earth would _you_ work there?"

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip, "Well I know that they are oriented towards men, but if you must know; the owner made it known to me that they also served—"

     " _Diarmuid, please_." Arturia had her teeth clenched as she limped towards the knight, "Why were you even—? Uh, never mind, do not answer that question." She tried to hide her anger at him because there was no logical reason for her to be upset with him, "I don't want to know."

     "Milady, do not misunderstand. I was looking for a job and no one accepted me. It honestly looked like a normal café, I entered with pure and modest intentions. I did not want to be there and declined their offer when I found out that it was not a café."

     "Whatever, you need not explain your intimate life to me, it is only for you to know."

     "Milady that is not — please, milady that was not what it was. I would never—"

     "It is quite alright, Diarmuid." She gave him a forced smile, "No explanation is needed; after all, we are not courting."

     Diarmuid rolled his eyes and groaned. He did not want her misunderstanding anything, but if she was going to be sassy with him, then he would rather not start an argument with her. He continued to move the knife to cut everything properly and then placed it on a wooden plate.

     "What are you making?" She leaned onto the table, looking at his hands moving.

     "A salad; I know, I apologize that I cannot make something better for you, but this is all we have left."

     "Thank you," she mumbled and then waited until he was done making it so that she could begin to eat.

     Arturia jumped at the food upon seeing that he was done. She made sounds of approval every now and then at the tasty fruits and vegetables. She had almost forgotten that she was upset with Diarmuid for going to such a place until she looked up at him and saw that his cheeks were tinted a bit pink; as if he had rubbed cherries on his cheeks.

     "What are you so shy about?" She grumbled, pouting at him as she bit a strawberry.

     He shook his head as he watched her lips, "Nothing," he was mesmerized, "I was just wondering how you would look if your lips were red." Oh gosh, how he _regretted_ saying that. Was it possible to go back in time? He bit his lower lip roughly and looked down immediately, to hide his—now darker—blush.

     "Well, they can only get a bit between red and a deeper pink." He heard her chuckle and then he looked up to see her rubbing the strawberry she had previously been eating on her lips.

     He blinked at her action and tilted his head, "Uh..."

     "How do they look?" She puckered her lips, "Are they red enough for you?" There were not that red, only a little deeper pink than before; but it looked good on her.

     "Ah!" He blushed and averted his gaze from hers, "It, er... it," he cleared his throat, "It suits you, mm... uhm, milady." More than he expected.

     "Now it's your turn, I want to see you with red lips," she giggled and passed him strawberry, she thought she would tease him in order to punish him for going to such a place, "I am certain it will suit you too."

     "It's quite alright, milady," Diarmuid brought his hands up in defense as she pressured on with the strawberry.

     She gave him a disappointed look, "If you want me to go to the old man's house, then you have to try to stain your lips."

     "Men are not—"

     " _Diarmuid_ ," she murmured condescendingly, "you must do it."

     He took a deep breath, ready for defeat. _She_ _had_ _a_ _point_ , he reasoned and so he let out his breath and took a bite out of the strawberry instead; he wouldn't be defeated. He watched as a blush crept on her face while she looked at the half bitten fruit in her hands. She looked cute, if he had to say...But then he shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek, his soft smile fading as the taste of the strawberry did too, "I apologize." He did not exactly mean it, because he felt a little proud that he made her blush, and he wondered if her lips tasted as sweet as the strawberry.

     She let out a chuckle and shook her head, "Aren't they tasty?" Her tone made it seem as if nothing even happened.

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and nodded slowly, "Yes, they are."

     "Here," Arturia held her hand up to him again with the strawberry he had bitten, "Then we should head off, right?"

     He took the fruit from her hand this time around and ate it, all the while watching her. She continued to eat the salad and would glance up at him every now and again, their gazes locking for seconds that would seem like minutes.

     "Um, we should be off...?" Diarmuid mumbled seeing her chew the last bit of the salad.

     Kind blue eyes squinted as they analyzed her over. They looked as if they were judging her, but they were much too kind to do that. In fact, they seemed to warm her up, her cheeks tinting with pink. The old man gave a wide smile and put his hands together. She saw him start to tear up and he sniffed. Thomas then led them back into the small house on the hill and showed them about the house. There was a kitchen/living room and two other rooms.

     "This is the room that you can find me in, and the one across will be your room. I'm so relieved that you are both a couple—and a lovely one at that—you are able to share the room." The old man smiled brighter, as if it were even possible. "You remind me of Martha and Oliver."

     "A _couple_? Uh, well," Diarmuid blushed at the word as he began, "You see..."

     "Yes," he heard Arturia interrupt him as she landed a hand on his upper arm, "We got married a little while ago. Since we have to visit my family in Camelot before anything, we've been travelling for almost two months now. Who knew it would take so long to get to the next Kingdom over, right sweetheart?" Her voice was somewhat sweeter than before, as if coated in honey and berries.

     He looked down at her with a surprised expression on his face and blinked, "Uh...?" Her eyes widened a little and she pointed at the man before them. Diarmuid still had his brows furrowed as she dug her nails into his arm and nudged him.

     " _Sweetheart_..." Her tone was a bit more menacing than kind this time around, but not too much for Thomas to notice.

     "Uh, erm...yes..." He shot his head up to look at Thomas, "Yes."

     Arturia giggled a little and leaned her head on Diarmuid's shoulder. She could feel that he was stiff as a rock under her touch and she felt bad for him, "Well, thank you, Mister Thomas. I am so very thankful that you have allowed us to stay with you."

     Thomas smiled sweetly, "Anything for a lovely couple."

     "We should settle into the room then," she smiled, "If you would excuse us." Diarmuid helped Arturia as she limped to the room whilst dragging their luggage along.

     Upon shutting the door behind himself, he rapidly made his way to her as she sat down on the bed. He blinked down at her expecting an explanation but she only looked up at him, "Yes?"

     "What do you think you are doing, milady?" He hushed.

     "Sitting down?" She blinked and tilted her head, "Is it not obvious?"

     Diarmuid took a deep breath and bit his cheek, "I mean to ask what it is you are thinking about? Why did you tell Thomas that we were a couple?" His eyes widened, "Did you not say not to trust him so much? And here you are acting as if—"

     "Diarmuid," she cut him off as she messaged her neck, "He seems like a very good man, and unless you wanted him to sleep on the couch...then... Plus, it is not as if we have not shared a bed together. Sure, this one is a bit smaller than the ones we've slept in before, but it's good enough."

     He blushed but averted his gaze from hers quickly, for he knew why his face felt hot, "But are we really going to deceive him?"

     "Aside from the marriage part, we are not lying to him the slightest bit. I am going to Camelot to see my family and friends; that's not a lie."

     "But, Arturia."

     "Sweetie," she smiled and noted that his cheeks tinted a darker shade of pink, "come on, _now_ , it's only for a week. Anyway, it is either being a couple for a week or you working at that brothel, would you have it that way instead?"

     "Artu—"

     "Shhh," she blinked, "you do not want Mister Thomas to think we are in a non-functional marriage. What did he say? That we reminded him of his son and daughter-in-law. Now, now, be a little patient."

     He watched her as she yawned, "I am very sorry for not letting you have a say in the matter, but I thought that you would have been alright with it. I apologize, and I hope you can forgive me." She heaved her leg up on the bed and glanced back at him, "I think it can help me take my mind off..."

     "I forgive you milady, and I apologize for acting rash, I know that it was very wrong of me as well..."

     "Do not worry of it," she grinned, "I feel drowsy, and I I think that I should take a small nap."

     "Have a good rest, milady." He bowed before exiting the room.

     He walked to the kitchen to see the old man preparing some food. A smile on his face as he hummed a familiar tune; probably something Diarmuid had heard in the bar sometime.

     The sun leaked in through the windows and it shun off the man's silver hair. He reminded him of a loving father who was making dinner for his children. The two little boys would run in through the wooden door and one would hug the man's leg whilst trying to hide.

     " _Daddy! He took my wooden sword," the little boy with blue hair accused, "It's not fair."_

     " _Diarmuid, give Cuchulainn back his sword..." Aengus looked down at the child hugging his pant leg._

     " _But I didn't take it!" He whined._

     " _Did so!" The other boy growled._

     " _Did_ not _!"_

     " _Did_ so _!"_

     " _Did_ not _!"_

     " _Boys..." Aengus huffed and shook Diarmuid off, "Give it back to him. Diarmuid?"_

     "Diarmuid?" He snapped out of the little memory as his eyes settled on the old man again.

     "Oh, Thomas," he smiled, "Yes?"

     "Where is your wife, Ar—Arta? Was it?" The man before him squinted as he scratched his head in hopes of remembering the name.

     " _Arturia_ ; she is a bit ill and so she is taking a small nap."

     "Oh I see," the man blinked, "How did both of you meet?" The question was rather simple, but it made Diarmuid's heart beat faster and his stomach to knot. He pondered about making up a story, but it was best to tell the truth, his honour even reasoned that one for him.

     "Um..." he gave an innocent smile, "It's not really a romantic tale or anything. In fact, it's kind of strange."

     The man sat down at the dining table and gave the knight a bright smile, "I'm all ears, young man."

     Diarmuid bit his lower lip and sat across from the blue-eyed man. He took a deep breath and gave a nervous smile, "Well," he began in a quiet voice—like there was someone else trying to listen in on their conversation.

    "Yes...?" Thomas blinked slowly as Diarmuid had not continued.

    "Our meeting was...frightening—to say the least." The young knight cracked his knuckles and raked his teeth over his bottom lip; turning it a little pink.

     "Well how did you meet? Spill it, boy." The man was tapping his foot impatiently as Diarmuid only meaninglessly elongated the story.

     "Right, right, forgive me. In all honesty, I had never thought I would come across her. I was walking back to my cabin from the village—back in Hibernia—and I could not believe my eyes when I saw a young woman bleeding on the floor. I feared that she was dead—that she had probably died not long ago."

_Diarmuid rubbed his hands together and cupped them up to his lips so that the white puffs of air could warm them up as he hopped through the heavy snow. It was already getting dark out. Even if it was only a few hours after mid-day, the sun was dying to fall asleep—and so was he. He yawned as he held his lance under his arm, he had originally gone to the village for some food, but he noticed that his lance needed polishing and sharpening._

_He closed his eyes shut for a little as the howling wind clashed against his face. He shuddered at the feeling of the cold air seeping into his skin. He glanced down at his hands to see his palms white and his fingertips red and stinging. He couldn't wait to get home and curl up by the fire with a quilt wrapped around his shoulders, a warm tea in his hands. The feeling of his hands burning and aching from the sudden change in temperature and his lips chapped; he wanted to get home as soon as possible. Thus, he hurried his step._

_As he walked through the evergreens and the sleeping trees, he saw a bump in the snow; blue and red emerging from it discreetly; as if something was buried underneath the thin layer of snow._

_As he approached it, he noticed that the red tints were drops blood that tinted the pure snow; it was not the sight he wanted to see on such a cold and lazy day. Diarmuid took a deep breath and prepared for the worst as he knelt beside the bump in the snow. He slowly uncovered the face of a woman. Gasping, he fell back into the snow—he was not sure what he was expecting. He covered his mouth as he wanted scream. Seeing men fall before him was nothing compared to seeing the corpse of an_ innocent _woman in the forest._

 _She was pale, so pale. Her hands and lips were already much too close to the shade of purple or blue. He ran a hand through his hair as he was unsure of what to do. It was the fluttering eyelids of a young woman that made him heave in relief. She was still_ alive _._

_His lips melted into a frown and he let his head drop, "There are heartless people in this world, huh?" He mumbled before draping his cloak over her. "I'll take you with me, alright, you'll be just fine." He slowly and cautiously wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up from the freezing floor. She was heavy and cold in his arms, he feared that if he did not hurry, she would slip away._

_He looked down at her as her bruised green eyes tried their best to open into something bigger than slits. "You are going to be alright," he smiled down at her as she closed her eyes and let her body go a little more._

     He did not say much, just briefly went over how he had found her in the snow. And how he nursed back to health afterwards, in fact, he told him of the many times he had helped her recover—but briefly, because he was unsure if Arturia would agree with telling the man everything.

     "Sounds to me as if you are meant to be," Thomas sipped at his tea, "Finding her in the forest alive was a miracle in itself. I am so glad that you both are married."

     Diarmuid gave a shaky laugh and a nervous smile as he brought the cup to his lips.

     "Are you planning to have children soon?"

     The young knight spit the tea out in seconds and he hit his chest whilst he tried not to choke.

     "Are you alright?" The old man rushed to Diarmuid's side.

     He coughed a bit more and forced a smile, "We—um, we haven't thought that far," he chuckled.

     Thomas grinned, "Well, you must because you never know what's going to happen. And leaving your wife with child is better than leaving her all alone."

     "Huh? Ah! Yes, yes, you are correct." He cleared his throat one last time as he tried to hide his blush.


	30. XXX

     Diarmuid began to hack some firewood as he thought about what they had said to the poor old man. Yes, he had feelings for Arturia, and he figured that out when he saw Lancelot kiss her. He knew that he was jealous, and he still was. Even if Lancelot was gone, he knew that Arturia would never look his way, so he took out his frustration on the logs with the axe in his hands.

     The sound of cracking wood and the feeling of the axe braking the logs under his hand was somewhat relaxing to him. The fresh cool breeze was refreshing as all the work was making him sweat. He removed his tunic and began the work again, sweat glistening down his forehead and his muscles tense. His toned muscles stretched with every swing of the axe, making him calmer.

    He thought about telling her that he liked her, but a knight and a king would never work out... Nevertheless ones from different kingdoms. Even if she actually fancied him in return, social norms would not accept their hypothetical courtship. There was no point in telling her, was there? There were many things that ran through his mind...

    He could not really say that he was in love with her yet—or he was unaware of it. It was hard for him to fall in love with anyone— _truly_. Grainne was never someone that he truly loved, and Youth could not ever be considered within that category. The Loathly Lady had been much too long ago and he was never sure if she returned his sincere feelings.

     Arturia had been the only woman in a very long time to treat him normally, to see him for the loyal knight that he was; not for a 'fun night' or anything lustful. She was actually someone that seemed to see him as a normal _human_ being.

     "I fancy you," he smiled—no, that would not be good enough.

     What if he kissed her? _No_ , that would be utterly disrespectful if he did not have her permission. He thought of everything else he could say to her hinting that he liked her in a romantic manner without actually telling her that he fancied her.

     Well, now that they were 'married' maybe he would be able to slip it in somewhere.

     CúChualinn groaned as he finally understood why his brother had gone to Logres with Arturia. In fact, he wished that he went along with him because Gilgamesh was already starting to get on his nerves.

     The prince had suggested that they go out drinking and have some 'fun', but the poor Hound of Ulster was definitely not in the mood of petty one-night-stands. Actually, he had seen the girl he once fancied back in court. They talked a little bit but it was Gilgamesh— _again_ —that had interrupted them and dragged the Irish knight to the stupid bar.

     He sat on the bar stool as the blond man went on and on about his home kingdom to a provocatively dressed woman beside him. He was talking about how they dressed there, and how hot it usually was, and the concubines— _and if she wanted to be one_.

     "Seems as if you are not pleased," a sweet voice came next to him.

     The blue-haired man rolled his eyes and sipped at his whiskey, "Not interested." He stated as he wanted to shut the woman down.

     "Oh, you do not want to have a simple talk?" The woman giggled and he glanced over to see the one he had an eye on.

     The poor man nearly choked on his liquor and coughed a few times, "Jeanne, I apologize, had I known it was you, I—"

     The blonde lady giggled again and nodded, "Ah, I see, what a cute excuse."

     "It was not an excuse," Cú laughed.

     "The bar is lively," Jeanne commented as she smiled at him, "I like the Irish fiddle."

     He had not really noticed that people were dancing and the music was ringing throughout the bar because he was so focused on his sorrow, "Ah, yes. It is." He gave a short nod.

     "You know, I have never learned how to dance this one..." Was she asking him if he could teach her? This was his big chance, right?

     "Well, my pretty little French lass, would you like to learn how to Irish dance?" he had always been confident with the ladies, but deep down, Jeanne made him a little nervous; though, he could never be nervous when asking a girl to dance.

     She blushed slightly, "If you insist," she took his hand when he had extended it and then he led her to the dancing floor.

     "Alright, key point; watch your feet. And we switch partners some times." He advised her and she gave a quick nod with a wide smile on her lips.

     He began dancing and aiding her in following his quick steps, she was a little lost, but he noted she giggled every time she got lost in the patterns of the tapping. He chuckled at seeing trying her best to dance along but she was a complete mess, and her footing was way off. "Watch me," he whispered in her ear over the lively music.

     She giggled all throughout and tried to follow his steps with her eyes but he threw her off when the music sped up and everyone around them clapped and cheered. "What is going on?" She laughed delightedly and tried to lift her skirt to her mid-calves again so that she could watch her footing and no one would step on her dress.

     "I'm better with ballroom dancing," she chuckled, "I swear."

     "I've seen you in the High King's Royal Ceremonies, and frankly, you are not that good either." He laughed and she playfully nudged him as she continued to dance.

     "How rude of a _chivalrous_ knight to say about a lady." She gave him a teasing glare, "You are supposed to smile and tell me that I am rather good at it."

     "But, that would mean I would lie, and soil my 'truthful' reputation."

     She gave a mock gasp and shook her head, "Alright, you win!"

     They were both laughing as they danced and then the switching of partners began. This was a horror for Jeanne because it made her realize thatCú Chualinn had actually been going way _too_ easy on her and she never knew that people could move their feet that fast.

     The quick switching of partners and fast dancing was making her dizzy, but it was a lot of fun. And she tried her best to keep up with every partner, that was until she was pushed onto another partner and he trapped her in a hug. A big man that had probably had a little too much to drink—because he smelt of strong whiskey—had her in a bear hug as he danced with her.

     She found it hard to breathe but once it was time to switch partners again, she felt her lungs fill with air.

     "How did you like it?" Cú Chulainn smiled down at her as he walked her back to the castle.

     "I feel as if I cannot walk tomorrow; Irish dancing requires a lot of muscles," she huffed.

     "Apparently arm muscles too; I saw you trapped in a man's embrace." He chuckled at the sight of her desperate face.

     "Hey!" she shot him a sideways glance, "I am not as weak as you think."

     "Is that so?"

     "Yes, it is so," she glared at him playfully.

     He gave her a bright smile and she could tell that he was going to do something to her, and she was right when he took her headdress and held it as high as he could. It made him wonder how she was even able to keep it on her head with all the dancing and the jumping if he could take it off so easy.

     "How does this work?" He examined it and he was reaching up for it.

     "Give it here, I can show you," she jumped up to try to catch it but he still kept it away from her, "please?"

     He smiled at her and passed it over, "Alright, show me."

     "Thank you for tonight," she placed it back on her head and hurried into the side door in order to escape from him. He did not even get to talk to her, which upset him; but there was still a satisfied smile on his lips.

     Arturia groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She wanted to take a bath, to sit there in the warm water for a while so she could relax; but it would be hard to do so with all her injuries. In fact, she was really tired and she did not want to do much. The medicine that Diarmuid had given her made her drowsy and she wondered if that was even good for her. Merlin never made her medicine that caused her to be so physically tired.

     She yawned as she slowly sat up. Sighing and biting her lip, she slowly slipped out of bed and walked her way to the kitchen. Diarmuid was not there, but Thomas stood by the stone stove and looked to be as if he was making dinner—she figured because it was already dark outside.

     She tumbled over the carpet and the old man shot his head towards her, "You're awake," he smiled, "How did you rest?"

     Arturia yawned and limped towards the man, "I rested well, thank you so much."

     The way he smiled at her reminded her of her father. She was filled with warm nostalgia and she was unsure of how she felt about staying with the old man. Now that she would not see her father when she returned to Camelot, she was unsure if she wanted to stay in a house with a man that reminded her of the goodness of fatherly love.

     Thomas sparked up a conversation with Arturia, it was about what she was looking forward to most when she arrived in Camelot. She had explained to him that she was really looking to seeing her friends and eating beef. She told him how her friends would go hunting and make a feast for her whenever she returned; and the food they made was delicious.

     They laughed together and talked about the dishes that they loved the most. Thomas listened intently when she explained the intricate dishes in detail and they both sat nearly drooling as they talked about the delicious food.

     "Arturia," her head flicked back to a voice behind her, hands landing on her shoulders, "You're up." Diarmuid mumbled as he heard her laughing; that was the first time she had truly laughed since Lancelot's death—he did not even realize how much he missed her laugh.

     "Yes," she giggled and set a hand on his left, "Thomas and I were just talking about food."

     Thomas gave a bright smile as he had made the young lady before him laugh, even if just for a little while, "I've still got it in me." He referred to his humour and then looked up at Diarmuid that stood behind the blonde, "She seems to know a lot about food. Is she some sort of princess?"

     Diarmuid's eyes grew wide as he furrowed his brows and laughed nervously, "What? What makes you say that?"

     Arturia let out a louder laugh and took Thomas' hand in hers, "Oh sir Thomas, you are too funny." She had been talking too freely, "I just have friends in high places," she giggled. "But, now that I am married, I cannot exactly associate myself with all my male friends now—so no more good food." There was a soft frown on her lips, "But, good thing that I married someone that knows how to cook well. If Diarmuid didn't, I am afraid I would have to divorce him."

    Thomas laughed and Diarmuid gave a scowl, "So you're only with me for the food?"

     She let out another laugh and squeezed his hand a little, "Of course not. You have many other qualities; cooking is just the important one, right Thomas?"

     The old man laughed and tilted his head, "So you do not know how to cook?"

     "Um...ahaha, no. I do not, sadly." She blushed and dropped her gaze, "I am not much of a wife, Diarmuid does the cooking and the stitching and the cleaning; I am sort of useless."

     "That is not true," Diarmuid pressed his lips on the top of her head, "You are my wife; of course you are useful." He then proceeded to sit down at the table with them.

     "Oh, I see. Well, I think that it is very sweet that Diarmuid does a lot for you," he smiled, "If I may so ask, why are you injured?"

     The image of Lancelot in her arms flashed through her mind and her smile dropped as she looked away, her left hand in a tight fist on the table.

     Diarmuid caught a glimpse of it and he took her hand in his, to assure her that she was safe, "It happened some days ago. We were travelling with a friend of ours and I had left for a while..." He messaged the back of her hand with his thumb, "They were ambushed and our friend could not make it."

     Arturia bit the inside of her cheek and stood, "If I may be excused." She mumbled before fleeing back into her room.

     "I-I am so sorry; I did not mean to—"

     Diarmuid smiled at Thomas and shook his head, "Do not fret; she simply does not like to think about it too much. Our friend was very dear to her."

     "My condolences," Thomas sighed.

     "It is alright. I am going to talk to her, make sure she is fine." Diarmuid stood from the table, "Excuse me." He gave a short bow before leaving the living room.

     He softly knocked and the door and slipped in, "Hello," he slowly made his way towards her.

     Arturia was seated on the bed, her back resting on the head board and her mind was somewhere in what laid outside the small window.

     "How are you feeling?" He sat next to her on the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of what she saw beyond the window.

     "I am just fine," she mumbled as she took a deep breath, "You would think that I could not forgive him, right? After all that he did to me, I still really care about him..."

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and he leaned forward in order to see what her eyes could tell him, "What...uhm, what do you mean?" his voice was soft so that it would not startle her.

     "I can still... I can still feel the sorrow of the grip around my neck. The warm tears on my cheeks. I dream of it. Sometimes, I wake up because I still feel him choking me, but I forgive him every time. I don't know... _why_. All the pain rushes back, but I _still_ forgive him. Maybe it is the sorrow that I still see in his eyes, or something. Am I..."

     "Arturia? What do you mean that you forgive him?" It was starting to settle into Diarmuid's mind. Why she never answered him about who it was that choked her, why she always limited what she said about what happened that day; why she even forgot everything when he found her in the forest. "Lancelot tried to murder you...?"

     Her eyes changed and she seemed to notice what she had been saying, "What? No, _no_ , he would not."

     " _He_ was the one that choked you; it was not the witch, was it? He was the one that—was he the one who hurt you the first time? Why you were bleeding in the winter? Was that because of him?"

     Arturia opened her mouth to speak but he came again, "I-I left you all alone with your own murderer...?" She could not explain what she saw in his rust orange eyes. Was it fear? Or anger? She couldn't tell.

     "He did not..."

     "He— _He_ was the one that tried to _murder_ you? I cannot believe that—" he stopped himself and ran a hand through his hair, "Why did you not tell me? Why did you make me—"

     "Because he did not kill me!" She screamed so that she would not have to hear the harsh reality that Diarmuid was spurting.

     Diarmuid furrow his brows and scoffed, "So, unless I had to _bury_ your dead body, I should not have known? Arturia, you nearly died three times now and you still do not think I should know everything? How am I to protect you if I do not know what—or rather _who—_ to protect you from? I understand that you love him, I really do, but why would you hide this from me?"

     She looked away and averted her gaze from him.

     "Why? Why do you push me away so? I have wanted to help you, I _want_ to help you; but you are not making it possible for me! Why is it that you always get distant? I cannot understand you, Arturia. I have really tried...but I do not think that you understand what it means to trust someone. You almost died because I was not there and you expect me to just simply sit back and never know?"

     "Exactly, you were not there, Diarmuid! You did not need to know!"

     "I do _everything_ for you and you do not even think that I have the right to know what happened between Lancelot and you?"

     "As I do not need to know what happened between Grainne and you when you nearly died, you needn't know of Lancelot and I."

     "But you had never known me when I met Grainne and—and you have just not _loved_ me!" He watched as her brows furrowed and he bit his lower lip as he regretted saying what he did. There was no going back now. His heart was hammering in his rib cage and he felt his cheeks become warm. "That's right." He gathered all the courage he had; if he could go into battle, he could tell her that he loved her.

     He could tell that she was searching her mind for another explanation that would change the meaning of what he had said—something much simpler that she was able to understand. He did not give her enough time, though, "I have realized that I've fallen in love with you."


	31. XXXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Author's Note~
> 
> Hey guys! So this chapter we are having some Cú Chulainn, Jeanne and Gilgamesh! As well as Guinevere and little King Arthur! Yay? Okay so IMPORTANT! THIS IS IMPORTANT:
> 
> THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE THE DAY THAT LANCELOT AND HELGA DIED. LATER, BY THE END OF THE SNIP-IT WITH GIL, JEANNE AND CU; IT CATCHES UP TO WHERE ARTURIA AND DIARMUID ARE IN THE CHAPTER BEFORE BUT WHEN GUINEVERE'S PART STARTS THAT IS BACK WHEN LANCELOT DIES, OKAY?
> 
> HERE IS THE TIME LINE:
> 
> Okay so let's say that Diarmuid and Arturia arrived in Logres (England) on March 12th; okay?
> 
> So they meet Lancelot on March 13th
> 
> They stay with Lancy from the 13th to the 18th
> 
> Lancelot dies on the 18th and Cú, Gil and Jeanne head off to Camelot on the 18th, Okay? Guinevere and her baby stuff happens on the 18th too.
> 
> Arturia and Diarmuid start living in the old man's house on the 22nd
> 
> Cú, Gil and Jeanne get to England on the 23rd (because they're on boat) and that is the time when Diarmuid tells Arturia that he loves her.
> 
> Okay so I hope that clarified everything haha yeah! So I hope you all enjoy the chapter and yay?
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb
> 
> P.S. Do you like the new cover I made? I worked hard on it :)And don't forget to review ;)

     Cú Chulainn sat on a log near the stables as he cleaned his spear. He smiled at himself at the thought of the fun night he had enjoyed with Jeanne. He was enjoying his time in the sunlight and the warmth he felt as the winter slowly slipped away. The days were much warmer now, and he could see that flowers were starting to bud now that it was nearly spring time.

     His smile faded upon seeing the tall and annoying prince standing before him, "Yes?" he groaned as he tilted his head up to meet the male.

     "Where did you scurry off to yesterday?" Gilgamesh had his arms crossed over his chest with irritation written all over his face, "You left me alone."

     "Are you my mother?" Cú Chulainn scoffed and rolled his eyes.

     "You are supposed to guard me at all times; what if that lady had tried to murder me?" Gilgamesh looked over the other man's insult.

     The blue-haired knight gave a grin and shrugged, "I did not want to interrupt you two; it seemed like you were both very interested in one another."

     "That does not excuse you to leave me alone. Did you run off with a girl, like Diarmuid?"

     "No, I ran off with a man," Cú clucked and then laughed at the stupidity of what he had said.

     "Well, I see who the dog takes after," the snobby prince growled, "As long as you are not running off with my fiancée, I'll be alright."

     "Fiancée?"

     "Yes, Arturia, the one Diarmuid ran off with."

     Cú Chulainn furrowed his brows and tilted his head, "Isn't she a peasant? I'm surprised that you would call her your fiancée, considering you turned down one of the High King's daughters because she was not ' _powerful enough_ '."

     "She's a prince, of course I would not marry a peasant." The blond rolled his eyes and scoffed.

     "A prince? What do you mean?" Cú had his brows furrowed even more, his eyes still trained on the man before him, a laugh escaping his lips.

     "Hm?"Gilgamesh finally caught on that he had said enough already, "What?"

     "You said she was a prince, what do you mean by that?"

     The prince gave a smile and shrugged, "I know not of what you are talking about."

     Cú Chulainn stood and shook his head, "What are you hiding from me?"

     "Nothing, I swear," he waved his hand in front of him in defense.

     "Tell me what my brother has gotten himself in to. I saved him last time and I don't want that to go to waste and I _surely_ do not want him dying on me again."

     Gilgamesh rubbed his neck and shook his head, "Nothing."

     "Tell me," Cú pointed his weapon at the other man as he approached him.

     "Woah, watch it, _mongrel_."

     " _Tell_ _me_." Cú had some sort of frightening look in his eyes as if he would run the lance through Gilgamesh's heart if he did not tell him everything.

     Gilgamesh grunted, "Alright, I'll tell you since I am a generous man."

     The knight took a deep breath and nodded, "Good."

     "Arturia is going back with Diarmuid to get crowned, more or less." The red-eyed man spoke before biting his lower lip.

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well," he took a deep breath, "Arturia is actually Prince Arthur; I know, it's a long story."

     Cú blinked, "Wait. You're telling me that the Fianna went all the way to Camelot—cancelled a field training exercise—to look for a prince that was actually a girl and was right under our noses all this time?" he growled and sighed loudly.

     "Arturia did not know that she was a prince until half way into the journey." Gilgamesh shrugged.

     "My brother is getting into—ugh," he gripped his lance tighter, "He never listens to me, that _prat_."

     "So she wants her throne back but someone is there to kill her."

     Cú could barely take the news of his brother in Camelot with a supposed 'prince', but now, he was literally walking to his death, "My brother thinks that he can take an entire army with a weak little girl?"

     "I would not call her weak, she has nearly died two times; she's quite strong."

     "So that's where I saw her, huh?" The Hound of Ulster sighed, "She was the prince all along. _Alright_. I'm going off, I'll see you when I return."

     "What?" Gilgamesh called as the other man walked to the stables, "I am going with you."

     "No," Cú Chulainn shook his head, "You have to stay here."

     The prince crossed his arms over his chest, "I am going with you. I find it so boring here in Connacht, I don't care what you say; I'm coming along."

     "Alright, alright. We'll go together then. We leave immediately."

     "Let me just go get some money and I'll be back in a bit, then we'll head off."

     "Of course," The knight gave a nod and readied the horses as he waited for the Prince to come back. His younger brother was always the one that went around looking for trouble. First with Grainne and now with Arturia; it seemed that pretty girls were always the cause of his downfall.

     I took a while before Gilgamesh was standing by his horse with a cloak around his shoulders and his sword strapped to his belt. He showed no signs of panting or anything and it made Cú wonder if had actually run to get his stuff ready. 

     "Let's go."

     "Where?" They both heard a voice from behind them, causing them to jump and quickly turn about and away from their horses, "Where are you both off to?"

     Cú Chulainn was surprised upon seeing the violet eyes of the girl he was with. Her head was tilted as she held her hands behind her back and watched them carefully, "Nowhere." He gave a decent smile.

     "Right, and how far is nowhere?" She blinked expectedly.

     Gilgamesh sighed, "It's not of your business," he huffed and turned back to his horse.

     The girl shrugged and furrowed her brows, "I just want to know where, can't I?"

     "We're going on a hunting trip." Cú bit the inside of his cheek, "Sorry, but we should be off. G'day milady."

     "I want to go too!" Jeanne clapped her hands together and skipped to her horse.

     "No women allowed," Gilgamesh growled from his stallion.

     Jeanne dropped her smile and looked over at Gilgamesh. "As far as I know, you are a Prince, correct?" She watched as he nodded, "Why are you two going on a hunting trip without other escorts? The Prince can be ambushed and die on foreign land; leading to a meaningless war."

     "It's a bonding thing! I am just getting to know the skills of my knight; so you needn't tag along."

     "Where are you going?" She ignored Gilgamesh and glanced at Cú because she thought she had a better chance to get something out of him.

     "Far." The prince answered.

     The Frenchwoman crossed her arms over her chest, "How far?"

     "Real far, you wouldn't know the place." Gilgamesh continued to argue with the young lady.

     "I know a lot; I know where the Ottoman Empire is, and where Castilla and Leon are. Try me," she grinned.

     Red eyes turned to slits as he saw that she was being sassy with him, "It's Scandinavian and Nordic, you don't know much of it."

     "I know quite a bit about them." Violet eyes blinked with no amusement whatsoever.

     "It's just far."

     Cú Chulainn cleared his throat and grabbed the attention of the bickering adults, "Milady, forgive me, but you cannot come along with us, with all due respect."

     Jeanne frowned and finally gave a nod, "Alright." She sighed in defeat and turned around to walk back out of the stables, "I'll just inform the High King, so he worries not o—"

     "Alright! You can come!" Cú was quick to stop her from leaving. He held her by the wrist and looked her in the eyes as she turned around. He saw a triumphant smile form on her lips and she took his hand.

     "Well, what are we waiting for then?" She giggled and hurried back to her horse, "I promise that I will not be a burden."

     Cú shook his head and pulled on his pony tail, "Of course." Alright, so things really did not go according to plan. First it was Gilgamesh, and now Jeanne; was he going to take the entire Fianna with him as well?

     Jeanne looked about the forest as she noted that they were heading North-West. She watched as the trees were budding and the birds were singing about. Winter was never this long back in Lorraine, by now the trees would already have leaves and the rabbits would be hopping about, Connacht seemed a bit colder than Lorraine.

     "Where are we actually off to?" She asked as they had sped up their paces, "You can't expect to not exactly tell me, now do you?"

     Gilgamesh growled, "Just be quiet, I thought you said you were not going to be a bother."

     Jeanne took a deep breath, "I forgot that you were a jerk."

     The prince snapped his head towards her, ready to run his horse into hers, but Cú came in between the two of them, shooting a glare. Gilgamesh groaned and looked away.

     "We're off to Camelot." Cú Chulainn looked over at Jeanne, his smile much more inviting and no glare in his eyes.

     Jeanne's eyes widened and her lips formed a straight line, "Um, why are we going to Camelot; I thought the Fianna just came from there..."

     "My brother needs help."

     "Oh," Jeanne nodded and remembered that they were heading the opposite way, "Alright. Are we taking the ferry?"

     "Yes, instead of crossing Hibernia on horses, we are going up to the port city here and rounding Hibernia on ship. It can take about a week maximum."

     "You're correct, it did not take long from Bretagne to get here." She nodded, "I always wanted to go to Logres." Her smile returned and she hurried her horse up a little bit.

     It did not take them a lot of time to get to the port city and it was right on time too, they were able to catch the last ferry of the day for Logres. They did not do much on their trip, it was mostly eating and some talking amongst themselves. Of course, Jeanne and Gilgamesh stood on thin ice and so they were not very talkative towards one another and they had made it to Logres a week later.

     It had been raining for quite a bit, in fact, the entire day so far and she sat on her throne waiting patiently for Lancelot or Helga to return with news. She was a bit unsettled and restless, she had been having nightmares for a long while now and she was unsure what was going to happen. If she had not exiled Merlin then maybe he could have helped her out—not that he would though because he knew of what she had done to Arturia.

     Guinevere fidgeted with the ring around her finger and thought about Lancelot again, she did care about him, but the Kingdom was more important; her child was more important. And when she thought about him, her nightmares would also snake back into her mind. She did not like it, being afraid of things; feeling inferior.

     It was in the late hours of the afternoon when a wet nurse burst through the doors, her face pale and it caused the Queen Regent's heart to beat faster, "The baby," she panted and Guinevere's heart constricted.

     "Arthur?"

     "He won't stop crying."

     Relief filled her as she had feared the worst, and then she immediately stood from the throne and hurried out the door. She held her dress in fists and her heels clacked as she ran down the hallways of the big castle and hurried to see her baby.

     The cries of the baby king were heard from down the nursery's hall and the closer she got to his room, the louder the cries were.

     The Queen burst through the door and threw herself to her child's cradle—where a nurse stood holding him—then quickly took him from the nurse. She cradled him in her arms and hushed him as he cried and cried. His screams were frightening, as if he had lost someone dear to him.

     She held the child closer to her bosom and sang little lullabies; the ones that every little King heard. "Sweetie, it's okay, mother is with you," she sat down on a chair and held the crying baby. He did not have a fever, he was not hungry and there seemed to be nothing wrong with him; so why was he crying so sorrowfully?

     She kissed the baby's head and mumbled words into his forehead to try and calm him down, but nothing was working. He cried for almost the entire evening and it was not until the late night when he had fallen asleep in her arms.

     The nightmare always scared her.

_She would wake up and place her robe on over her nightgown, she would walk across the hallway that was lit by the bright and warm sun and she would then open the door to her son's room. He would still be asleep and she would make her way to his cradle and she would see her baby sleeping still, a purple lily in his mouth._

_Her eyes would widen and she would take the flower away to try and wake her baby, "Arthur, sweetie," she would shake him but the baby would be as still a rock. She would try over and over again to wake him but his beautiful grey eyes would not open._

_Her screams would fill the room as she would fall to the floor at the realization that her baby would never wake up again._

     Guinevere held her baby closer and tried not to cry as she held the living child in her arms, "You're here, with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S; Lilies mean death ;)


	32. XXXII

     Arturia blinked in disbelief; she did not think that she would ever hear someone say those words to her after Lancelot. In fact, those words were the only thing that floated in her mind at the given moment. She sat still, just looking at him as if he was not actually there. She held a blank expression that caused him uneasiness and there was a dense silence that hung around them in some sort of cloud.

     Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, he was not sure what he was truly expecting from her. He was prepared for her to reject him though.

     "Um," she licked her lips; ready to blabber on about something meaningless and not actually respond to what he had stated.

     "You..." Diarmuid interrupted her as he felt his heart still beating rapidly, "You needn't say anything. I know that you do not want to be involved in relationships right now, and it was a bit impulsive of me. But, I thought that you might as well know. If you could think about it for a while, maybe until we reach Camelot and tell me your answer, it would be more than enough."

     She was unsure what to respond afterwards, and so she simply gave a short nod of her head and watched as he exited the room in silence.

     Upon leaving the room, Diarmuid had his eyes shut tightly and his teeth clenched. He knew that it was going to be hard to face her again, and he did not know how she was going to act around him afterwards. Maybe if they did not talk to one another for a while, the awkwardness and tension would soon ease.

     Thomas was not anywhere to be seen and in fact, Diarmuid did not even know if he was in the house. He took a deep breath and walked out of the house in order to continue whatever work he was to do next.

     Arturia still sat on the bed and thought about the words Diarmuid had said. They were rather strong, and it made her head feel dizzy. Her mind was in another place, really. There were many things she was and was not thinking about. The idea of a relationship seemed very difficult and improbable in her mind. They were on completely different statuses and even countries, it was not as if they were sociably compatible in the first place. But then again, why was Lancelot an exception to the rule and Diarmuid not?

     Love was a hard concept for her... the only time she ever loved someone ended quite tragically and so soon after the incident, she was not really in the mindset to be looking for exactly that. It was not love that kept her far away, it was the fear of losing someone as she had lost Lancelot.

     She rubbed her face and fell back on the bed, _what am I going to do now?_ She was glad that he fancied her but she did not want their friendship to crumble after this. She was content with them being friends and laughing together, them sitting on a bed and talking; she was content with everything that they had before. Of course there were times when they were sleeping next to each other, or when their hands brushed against one another that she had wished they were a bit more than friends because her heart would beat a little faster and she would feel butterflies in her stomach. But, friends was just fine. Friends was good enough.

     Diarmuid entered the small stable that Thomas owned and fed the horses because he had realized that they had not been fed the whole day. He pet his mare as he bit the inside of his lips harshly. He questioned himself for telling her and he even scolded himself a few times; he did not exactly regret it, but he did not want her to see him differently (in a bad way). He felt as if she would not even let him touch her any more. As if she would not even let him look at her because she would somehow be appalled by him. Since he had never truly fallen in love, everything seemed possible. She could hate him after all this, and he was not exactly prepared for that.

     "Diarmuid," a voice came from behind him and he nearly jumped in the air, "I have been looking for you."

     Diarmuid shot his head back towards the voice and saw Thomas standing by the door watching him silently, "Oh, forgive me, I was just looking over our horses."

     Thomas gave a smile and sighed, "Dinner is ready," he mumbled, "Oh, and we're having a guest over tomorrow, is that alright?"

     The knight furrowed his brows and chuckled, "Of course, this is your home after all."

     "Oh, yes," the old man mumbled again, "and, I am certain that you will be able to patch things with Arturia, it was just a small fight anyways."

     Diarmuid gave a hopeless smile and nodded, "I'm not quite worried about that."

     "Then why are you sulking here as you feed the horses?" Thomas approached Diarmuid and stood next to him, "It seems as if you are very upset about it."

     "I simply do not like to make her feel uncomfortable and I think that this fight surely did just that." Diarmuid rubbed his neck as he spoke, the image of Arturia in his mind very vivid.

     "Since you're newly-wed, you know not of how frequent arguments are. I assure you that by the time that Arturia sits at the dinner table; she'll forget. There is but one thing that you must remember about women—about your wife—she is always going to be right. Matters not if you are correct, she will _always_ be right."

     Diarmuid let out a lighthearted chuckle, "You are completely correct."

     "Well, then, let's go," Thomas helped Diarmuid with closing the stable as they walked back to the small cabin house. The moon was lighting the earth, but it was not as well as when the sun was out; of course—but Diarmuid loved the moon's perseverance.

     If the moon could even try to match the sun's light, then he was able to not act awkward about what he had said. She would not mind, or at least that was what he believed; hopefully the old man was right.

     The front door creaked as they both entered the house and Diarmuid saw Arturia humming a song he had never heard as she served the food. Her hips were swinging to the tune and then she turned about with a plate in her hands. Her eyes were closed as she continued to hum and she did not notice them yet.

     Diarmuid wondered if that was what she would do if they were actually married. She would serve the food he made after he washed up or something. It really made him wonder; what if they were actually married...?

     He heard that Thomas had joined in the whistling and Arturia's eyes shot open, the green meadows within them held wonder and surprise, "Oh, hello sir Thomas," she smiled at the man, "honey," she then greeted as her eyes landed on Diarmuid. "You know the song?" Her eyes flickered back to Thomas as he had continued to hum the tune.

     "Why, of course, it's one of Camelot's folk songs; how does it go again?" Thomas smiled and watched as Arturia set the plate on the table before clapping her hands.

     "I think that it starts like this; 'A sword as bright as the morning sun'," the female quietly sang, "Yes, that sounds about right; but I'm no singer, thus I'll save you the pain of hearing me continue." She let out a giggle at the end.

     "Whatever are you talking about, I think that your voice is rather sweet." The old man grinned as he sat down at the table, quickly followed by Diarmuid.

     "No need for flattery, Mister Thomas," she shook her head and chuckled, "My friend always used to tell me that my voice was horrid."

     "Well, then that friend was a liar," the voice of Diarmuid snaked into the conversation and Arturia's cheeks lit up as her head shot towards him. He was looking down, averting his gaze from hers and she could not tell what he was thinking.

     She took a deep breath and smiled again, "Aw, thank you, darling. But, that still won't make me sing for you."

     He did not look up at all, just kept his gaze set before himself on whatever it was that he found so interesting, "Hmm."

     Arturia sat down upon setting the last plate on the table and they said grace before starting their meal. The dinner was silent until the old man decided to speak.

     "Well, how did you come about to learning the song?" He asked Arturia as he blinked at her.

     The female prince smiled, "My late friend would always hum it, and I never knew what it was called until another friend of mine started singing the words to it. It's about a sword that is stuck in a stone; and only the heir to Albion can be able to pull it."

     "Is it real? The sword, I mean?" Thomas smiled, "I've never been to Camelot and the word of mouth cannot always be trusted."

     Arturia chuckled, "My friend, Merlin, he says that it is real and that it lies somewhere in the forest a little away from the castle. Apparently, the man that pulls the sword will unite all the kingdoms and form a High Kingdom that they call Albion."

     "Albion..."

     "Yes," Arturia nodded, "it is supposed to be the best kingdom ever established; a fair and just kingdom. As a little girl, I always wondered who it was that was going to be the king—they must be very perfect."

     "Maybe not perfect in the eyes of many. They could seem rather weak or forgiving. A kingdom is hard to rule and no one is ever able to rule it with so much greatness. But if the legend is true, then one day a good king will save this poor little island."

     "Although, it is said that Albion will never be formed. Instead, the king will die in a great battle and one day come again to—what will then be—Albion's aid."

     "When do you think that that king will appear?" Thomas tilted his head as he wrapped a hand around the cup of warm tea.

     The female shrugged and bit her lower lip, "Not yet, I do not think that Logres is ready for such a king."

     Thomas smiled sweetly and nodded, "I have a feeling that it will be soon, even if Logres is not exactly ready."

     "And what do you think, sweetheart?" Arturia looked over at Diarmuid, a small smile on her lips.

     Diarmuid's amber eyes flickered up to hers and she was glad that he finally let his gaze rest on her. There was a tight feeling in her stomach but she kept the smile plastered on her face.

     "I know not much of Logres and their legends. But from what I take it; I feel as if that High King will arrive soon." He blinked a couple of times and still kept his gaze on hers until she was the one to break away.

     "Well," she glanced at Thomas after they had all finished their dinner, "do you have a place where I could take a bath. You see, I feel that I really must get cleaned up, what with these injuries and all."

     "Oh, of course," the older man nodded and stood from the table, "I'll start the fire in the bathhouse and, Diarmuid," he looked over at the man that remained seated, "could you please start to boil some water?"

     Diarmuid's eyes widened and he pointed at himself, "Me?" he blinked slowly and tilted his head.

     "Yes, _you_...could you?" Thomas furrowed his brows.

     "Right, _right_ ," the younger man nodded and then walked to the fire stove before heading back out so that he could collect water from the well. Alright, so maybe he was thinking about Arturia's answer a little _too_ much. The worst she could say was that she did not like him; and that was not _that_ bad...right? Oh, but it was. It was the worst thing she could possibly say to him and he feared that if she were to say that, he would be very disappointed and upset with himself.

     It was not a long walk to the well, since it was rather close to the man's house and so Diarmuid simply looked up at the moon a couple of times as he heaved the four buckets of water back up the hill; that would be enough for her bath and if anything, he would go back down to get her two more.

     By the time he got back up to the house, he noticed that Arturia was no longer there and Thomas either. In fact, he was alone by the stone stove. He put to boil two buckets of water and then waited until they would begin to bubble. He thought it best to take the two buckets of cool water straight to the bathhouse.

     He greeted Thomas as he poured the water in the soft stone bath. Diarmuid had started to realize that Thomas was not as poor as he had initially thought. In fact, many people did not even have bathhouses behind their cabins.

     "Well, you could help Arturia clean up, as I do not want her hurting herself." Thomas stated so nonchalantly that it startled Diarmuid greatly.

     "Pardon?" He blinked in disbelief of what the old man had said.

     Thomas blinked, "You _are_ married, correct?"

     "I think that she will be able to manage by herself, she is a strong woman," Diarmuid bit his lower lip and sighed as he finished pouring the water. "I'm sure she would want to be alone anyways..."

     "Alright, I assume that you are correct because she _is_ your wife," Thomas sighed and they both left the bathhouse together.

     Upon Diarmuid's return, he noted that the water was already boiling and Thomas had sent both Diarmuid and Arturia off to the bathhouse. Diarmuid tried not to even glace at Arturia because he thought that she would probably glare at him since they were not in front of Thomas anymore.

     "The moon is looking beautiful, right?" Arturia broke the awkward silence between them.

     "Um, yes...it is." Alright, so Diarmuid was not so calm in the end.

     "Well then," she shrugged as they entered the bath house and she watched him pour the boiling water in the tub. She really did not want to make herself see him as a man. She had been trying to avoid this from the time her heart would start to flutter when he laughed.

     "If it's too hot, or cold, just tell me so I can get more water for you..." He spoke almost robotic, as if he had been rehearsing the line for some minutes before anything.

     She stirred the water with her hand and nodded, "It seems to be adequate like this."

     Diarmuid nodded and then he bowed respectfully before walking out of the small wooden cabin. He walked out and ran a hand through his hair, well maybe she liked him...she was being rather nice to him after his confession...

 


	33. XXXIII

     Arturia had cleaned her wounds outside of the tub, and once she did that, she sank into the warm water and rested her head on the edge of the tub, letting the water soothe her muscles and joints. She slowly shut her green eyes and sunk in deeper so that the water was up to her chin. 

     The words of Diarmuid rushed back into her mind and she felt her heart thump a little faster; as if it was trying to tell her something that she still wanted to ignore. Her cheeks warmed up and she knew that she was already blushing. They were just... very _strong_ words.

     She took a deep breath as she began to scrub herself, letting all the small touches soothe her, to stop her from thinking about something that she would rather not. She missed being submerged in a bath; back when she was in Camelot it was her escape from the world and that was what she wanted to do this time around too. _Escape_.

     Arturia slipped entirely under the water and held her breath as she opened her eyes. She saw the blurry world past the water and slowly let out her breath in bubbles. 

     Love was the hardest thing that she had ever come across; Lancelot had told her that Love was when your heart beat a little faster when you saw someone. Love was when you would say goodbye but never mean it. Love was when you wanted to see that person again. Love was _even_ when her father would tell her that she should be careful when she was going out to battle. Love was when her heart swelled when she saw that person smiling or laughing. Love was something that made you happy, sad, angry and grateful.

     Arturia sat up and let the air fill her lungs. She rubbed her face a couple of times in anxiousness and then shook her head. What was she thinking now? Being nice to Diarmuid could only cause him the impression that she liked him as well; but it was not as if she did not like him. 

     She splashed the water because the stress was getting to her. She never knew that liking someone could be so hard to explain. Arturia sank back in and let out a loud grunt so it could fill the room. She clenched her teeth and waited until the water had turned cold and even the fire place beside her could not warm it up again. The prince sighed; her fingers were already wrinkly and she was starting to shiver.

     Slowly slipping out, she dried herself off with a cloth and then fit herself into a baby blue dress that she had prepared. She dried off her wet hair and shook off all the water she could. She slowly drained the tub and sat by the fire so that her hair would dry properly. The fire place was warm and she almost wished it was like water that she could submerge herself into.

     Upon feeling that her hair was dry, so took a look at the small handful of cosmetics that Thomas had given her.

     "They used to belong to my late wife, but now nobody uses them; it would do me good if you could." She remembered what he had said as she opened a small container. There was ground lily root that would make her skin free of most bruises and so she applied it to her neck and under-eyes. Crushed leaves of angelica served as a blush but she thought it best to pinch her cheeks so that they would look a more natural shade of red.

     She opened the last container and noted the red tinted lip stain. _  
_

_"I was just wondering how you would look if your lips were red."_

     She remembered his words so clearly and a chill ran down her spine. Did he actually want to see how her lips would be if they were rose red?

     She ran her fingers over her lips and nodded; alright, she would show him. She dipped one of her fingers into the tainted beeswax. She had to apply quite a bit on her pale and chapped lips for them to look smooth and rich red.

     She closed her eyes for a bit and opened then again, this was the first time that she had ever worn makeup and it was probably going to be the last time as well. It was worth a shot.

     Arturia ruffled her hair and folded the dress she had been wearing before. She fixed it a little and then walked out of the bathroom. She slowly walked up the hill as she looked down and bumped into Diarmuid, who had also been looking down.

     Her cheeks burned and she felt her heart in her throat, she stood stunned for a while and then decided that she needed to say something, "You should be paying more attention to you step."

     Diarmuid's eyes widened at her tone of voice and then he nodded, "Forgive me, milady."

     "Right," she huffed, "well get to it."

     He nodded again and stepped aside so that he could continue to carry the water that he had prepared for himself down the hill. Diarmuid bit his lower lip and tilted his head...he wondered if it was his fault that she was upset, maybe she really did not like him after all.

     Arturia continued up the hill, past the outhouse and silently entered the small house. She greeted Thomas before disappearing into the bedroom and sitting on the bed. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, she never knew how to deal with situations like these.

     Diarmuid on the other hand, made sure to clean himself in a short time because, even if the water was warm, the night was getting colder and it was already too late for him to contemplate his life in the bath tub. Instead, he made his time in the bath as short as was possible. He cleaned his hair and only dried it with a cloth moderately before draining the tub and leaving the bathroom.

     He yawned and continued his way up hill while glancing up at the sky a couple of times. He was glad that it was much warmer now, it made him feel a little happier. As much as he loved winter, spring was always his favourite season.

     He entered the house and smiled at Thomas who was just cleaning up the kitchen before going to sleep. They greeted each other and then Diarmuid went to his room, opening the door and taking a deep breath.

     Arturia had her night gown on and she looked at him a little stunned. He noted that she had painted her lips and he gave a warm smile at the fact that she listened to his request. She really did look beautiful; red lips parted slightly, glassy green eyes, loose golden hair and a white nightgown clinging to her body and complementing her ivory skin.

     "Do the knights of Fianna knock?" Her light brown eyebrows were knitted and she had her arms crossed over her chest.

      Diarmuid blinked and gulped, "Oh, uh, um...forgive me," he bowed his head, "but you are dressed."

     "And what if I was not dressed?" She nagged and he stood straight.

     "Uh..." He dropped his head and looked down at his shoes as he fidgeted with the clothing in his hands.

    "Exactly. Learn some manners for the next time around."

     The man bit the inside of his cheek and nodded again, "My apologies, milady." He curtsied and then exited the room...so, she _did_ hate him.

     Arturia grunted and rubbed her face, great! Now she had done it! She did not want to be so rude to him. In fact, she was not even going to say anything; but when he entered, she was startled and the small smile on his lips and his messy hair hanging over his eyes, instead of being pulled back as he usually had it, caught her off guard. Her heart had beat faster in her chest and then she blurted the first thing she thought about.

     She fell back on the bed and banged her hand on it before rolling about—this was not how she had acted when she and Lancelot were together. This time around, it was much harder. Much more _difficult_.

     It was late in the night when she awoke. She could not even recall her nightmare so she turned over to shake Diarmuid awake, but he wasn't there. She furrowed her brows as she slipped out of the bed and looked about the room, he was not there either. Arturia stretched a bit and then exited the room only to find him sleeping at the dinner table.

     She slowly walked up to him as the floor creaked under her weight and then she slowly shook him awake, "Diarmuid."

     Diarmuid groaned as he opened his eyes and noted that it was still night time, he sat up slowly and turned towards the voice as he took note that his back ached, "Hn?"

     "What are you doing?" She mumbled as she blinked down at him.

     He rubbed his eyes and yawned, "Sleeping..."

     "I mean, why are you sleeping here? Come on, let's go back to bed." She took his hand and then pulled him up from the chair.

     He yawned and tilted his head, "Alright, milady." He followed obediently because he thought that if he said anything else, she was probably going to get upset with him. He tiredly watched as she crawled onto the bed next to him and he had no energy to stay awake and so he fell asleep right as his head hit the pillow.

     Arturia, on the other hand, was unable to fall asleep for a long while afterwards. Eventually, she was able to fall asleep, though.

     By the morning, Arturia had awoken to an empty bed once again. She took her time to sit up and rub her eyes. She was a bit cold but she did not mind, what she did mind, was that her arm was hurting and she figured that she had probably slept on it during the night, but other than that; she had a good sleep. She still had not recalled the nightmare, but she thought if she did not remember it, then it was not important.

     She cracked her back and slipped out of her night gown and back into a clean dress. She tied her hair up in a pony tail and ignored the makeup, she thought it best not to put it on because she did not want Diarmuid to stare at her when she was not paying attention; she was sure she would become very embarrassed.

     After Arturia finished getting ready, she exited the room to find Thomas sitting at the breakfast table and Diarmuid cooking. She smiled at Thomas and gave him a greeting, "Good morning," she smiled as she walked towards Diarmuid and landed and hand on his upper arm and she felt him tense up under her touch, "Good morning, sweetheart." She let her hand drop to her side and she excused herself as she said that she was going to wash her face.

     Diarmuid continued to make the food and brushed her kindness as an act in front of Thomas and began to serve the stew. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders before setting the table and giving Thomas a bright smile, "I hope it is to your liking." He gave a nod.

     Thomas returned the smile and sighed, "I'm sure it will be." He watched as Diarmuid sat at the table and they both waited for Arturia, "Have you been able to patch things up with her? I feel you are a little bit tense."

     Diarmuid chuckled and shrugged, "I am not quite sure, to be honest."

     Thomas nodded and also gave a shrug, "Women are usually like that." He said and then played about with the spoon, "Our guest will be here in the afternoon, he's come a long way and it would be good if we have something prepared for him, and if you could go to the tavern and get me a bottle of wine, I would appreciate it."

     "Of course," Diarmuid nodded, "I would love to."

     "Just make sure to enter the tavern, not the brothel."

     Diarmuid blushed and his eyes widened, "Pardon?"

     "Don't worry, I won't tell your wife; but you must promise me to never go back there."

     "How did you...?"

     "I saw you coming out and then I thought you were my son. I was about to get really mad at you, but since you were not my son... _well_ , I do not have a say in your life, now do I?"

     Diarmuid blushed even more and shook his head, "That's not what I was there for, I honestly thought it was a normal cafe and then it wasn't and I left as soon as I could."

    "Mhmm." It was evident that he was not convinced and the old man was still playing about with the spoon.

     "Arturia already knows," Diarmuid added, "It was not because I was there to... you know."

     "No wonder she is upset with you."

     " _No_! I was not there because of that! And she's not upset with me because of it, technically I should be the one upset because she never told me that her lover tried to murder her." _Oh crap!_ Diarmuid covered his face and shook it roughly, he had done it this time for sure.

     "That's why you were in the brothel? Because your wife was being infidel? It's sad to see such a young couple already in problems..." Thomas frowned and took a deep breath, "Am I glad that you are not my son."

     " _No, no, no, no_! It's not like that. Arturia is not infidel. You see—"

     "I'm infidel?" Arturia closed the door behind herself and both the men shot their heads towards the door, "I'm not the one who went to a brothel, was I?"

     " _Great. Just perfect._ " Diarmuid buried his face into his hands, "Why me?"


	34. XXXIV

     Arturia was sitting down at the table with her arms crossed over her chest across from Diarmuid and Thomas was sitting next to him. Diarmuid rested his head on his hands and took a deep breath, "That was not what I meant. I never said that you were infidel..."

     "It sounded like that to me..." Thomas shrugged as he puffed his cheeks.

     " _Thomas_ , you are not helping," Diarmuid groaned as Arturia huffed. "Look, I never said that, honestly."

     "But now that we are on the subject, why _did_ you go to that brothel?" She lifted a brown eyebrow as she tilted her head.

     Diarmuid blinked and let out another sigh, "I went with pure intentions to find a job that I could support you with. I tried my absolute best, but apparently that was not good enough because you seem to not trust me."

     Arturia took a deep breath and leaned back into the seat, "Are you trying to lecture me, Diarmuid?"

     The young man narrowed his eyes and extended his hands in question, "Who said that?"

     "You know," she said, "these three months that we have known each other, you have been following me everywhere and nagging me."

     "Nagging you? Excuse me?" He questioned, "Have you forgotten about Gil being the one to complain about _everything_? I have tried my best to support you in every way that I could. Why are you being like this? I cannot believe that you cannot appreciate my help."

     "No one asked you to come along," Arturia sassed.

     "What honour as a knight would I have if I let a woman travel alone—or _worse_ , with Gilgamesh?"

     Arturia let a chuckle slip but quickly composed herself, "So all you care about is your honour as knight? You care little of me?"

     "What? I honestly told you that I loved you yesterday, what makes you think that I do not care about you? You know, we can drop this whole 'marriage' act. I understand, you cannot stand my presence, you need not act nice to me in front of Thomas."

     Arturia's eyes widened and her jaw had dropped, "Uh..."

     "Sorry for lying to you, Thomas; we are not married. I love her but she is making me rather upset right now and I do not think that she returns my feelings at all." He did not like how one second Arturia was as sweet as honey, and then the next she was acting as if she had snakes for hair and they all wanted to bite him.

     Thomas gave an innocent smile as he rubbed his neck, "Haha, about _that_... I guessed as much already. It was obvious because you were fighting about murder the other time...usually married couples do not do that. They also do not confess their feelings after the wedding, they also do not marry after three months of knowing each other."

     The knock on the door was what stunned all of them. Thomas had expected the guests to come later in the day, but he guessed that they decided to come much earlier. They all stood to open the door, but Thomas smiled at the other two and gave a sigh, "I will tend to it."

     "Hello?" A voice came from the other side of the door, "I arrived."

     "On my way," Thomas called as he headed for the door and then slowly cracked it open.

     Arturia heard him greet the guest and she glanced over at Diarmuid and then flickered her eyes away from him, maybe she had been much too rude to him. She took a deep breath and slowly turned around to see two tall men enter the room, and then she felt her heart speed up. Were they there for her? Was Thomas always planning to sell them out?

     Then a man with a white cloak entered, he was much shorter than the other two and she watched as he took off the cloak's hood, letting in rest on his shoulders and back. His long and messy white hair caught her eyes and then her gaze lowered to meet violet eyes.

     She felt her nose sting and tears clouded her vision. She could not even speak as she slowly made her way towards the young man and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Merlin," she breathed as she slowly felt his arms wrap around her.

     Diarmuid looked away and sighed as he watched them hug; it seemed like every time he was to say something important, someone precious to her always made him realize his place in her life. The Irish knight rubbed his neck and lowered his head. He stood from his seat and decided no one would miss him if he went to get the wine now.

     "Arturia, it is so good to see that you are alive and well," Merlin chuckled as they both pulled away from each other.

     Arturia laughed and nodded, "One could argue."

     "Well," Merlin shrugged and then glanced at the knight that was silently escaping, "Diarmuid," he smiled brightly as he saw the Irishman shoot his head towards him.

     "Yes?" Diarmuid seemed like a deer about to be shot by an arrow.

     "How about I join you? We can get that bottle of wine together." The young wizard gave a wider smile and watched as Diarmuid hesitantly nodded and then they both left the small house with a few goodbyes and continued to the tavern.

     "Diarmuid,"

     "How do you know my name?" Diarmuid was not trying to be rude, but rather he was only asking because it made him bewildered—the other man even knew where he was going from the beginning.

     Merlin shrugged and chuckled, "I am a wizard, I know quite a bit of things." He laughed and then his smile dropped. "Arturia has been a friend of mine since we were very young and I am thankful to you for saving her the many times that you did. If it were not for you, _well_ , I could safely say that Arturia would be long dead; so thank you. There are no other words that could express how thankful I am to you."

     Diarmuid was a bit taken aback because no one had ever thanked him so deeply and he gave a smile, "I am glad that I could be of some use to you, if not anyone else."

     The wizard nodded, "You have been a very respectful knight and helper to my young prince that I want to ask you of a big favour..."

     "Yes...?" Now the poor Irish knight was afraid again. If Merlin was anything like Arturia, he would tell him that he was not needed and then would shoo him off as if it were nothing.

     "You see," Merlin began as he raked his lower lip with his teeth, "The current Queen Regent is the one that caused the entire predicament. You must not know much because Arturia seems to be enduring trust insicurities, but, Arturia passed as a man. She is the Arthur that everyone has been looking for, and she was to wed Guinevere, but there are many things that transpired between them and the Kingdom."

     "Guinevere is the one that hurt Arturia?"

     "Guinevere and Arturia were great friends. They spent a lot of time together... but Guinevere wanted to know about the future of the Kingdom; what would happen when they ruled Camelot. She sought my guidance but I refused to give her an insight on the future, you see..."

     " _How_ cowardly _are you, Merlin? This is for the best! I want to know the future! Please, Merlin." Guinevere looked upon him, a frown plastered on her lips and her arms crossed over her chest._

_Merlin heaved and shook his head, "I said that I would not do it; find another person to listen to your requests!"_

_Guinevere turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, minutes later, another lady entered the room. Blue and purple fabric fanned around her and she held her head high as her wavy black hair cascaded down over her shoulder, "What troubles you so, Merlin?" Decorated red lips pouted as the woman approached him and landed a hand on his shoulder._

_He was seated at his desk and doing whatever paperwork it was that Arturia had sent him, "Guinevere is being rather stubborn."_

_Arms wrapped around his neck and a head landed atop his, "Isn't she always?" The woman chuckled._

     " _She wants to see what the future brings...And I do not want to show her."_

_He felt the lady shift a little and then she lifted her arms momentarily, "Why not give her what she desires?"_

_Merlin huffed and rolled his shoulders, "You would not understand, Morgana."_

     " _You do not want her to be upset, I know. But if it is what she wishes, then she should not be surprised." Morgana then sat down on the arm rest of the man's chair._

     " _The problem is that people always want to change the future..."_

     " _What are you doing?" Morgana had changed the subject as she shifted her seating over to the desk._

_Merlin sighed again and leaned towards her, "Paperwork for Arturia."_

     " _That is no fun," she chuckled and lifted him from his seat before pulling him out of the room, "How about we go do something fun, like horse racing!"_

     " _Morgana!" Merlin burst through her chamber door, not even bothering to announce himself._

     " _My goodness, you nearly killed me of freight!" Morgana laughed as she was seated on a chair, practicing her flute._

_Merlin looked rather enraged and she had her eye on him to see what he was to do next, flute still in hand, "What did I tell you?"_

     " _Hm? What?" Her dark brows were furrowed and her lips pushed to one side._

     " _I specifically said that I did not want Guinevere knowing the future and you went and did what she wanted!"_

     " _Well, she is to be queen someday..." Morgana shrugged._

_Merlin groaned and ran a hand desperately through his hair, "Do you have any idea what is going to happen now that she knows?"_

     " _What?"_

_Merlin opened his mouth to speak and it was the castle warning bells that interrupted him. The loud ringing invaded the castle walls and both of them immediately ran to the throne room, where Uther was seated with many guards around him._

     " _The prince has been kidnapped."_

_Merlin shot his head towards Morgana and watched as she cursed under her breath before they both turned to see Guinevere faking tears next to the king._

     " _I warned you," Merlin mumbled to Morgana and witnessed her tense under his words._

_Out of her mouth flowed a string of profanities as they both walked back to her room, she kicked her flute and they both plopped down on the bed. Morgana quickly stood and walked to her wardrobe before getting a lopsided glance from Merlin._

     " _What are you doing?" He asked with an eyebrow raised._

     " _We are going to find her. Guinevere this_ vixen _; I told her she shan't act upon it and here she is, ready to murder my sister! And do not lecture me, Merlin, I know that what I did was stupid but I had to complete her request or she would have gone to someone else and we all know we would have been in deeper—"_

     " _Alright, let us go then." Merlin stopped her from cursing and stood from the bed as well._

_Morgana's chamber door creaked open and another woman entered, "And where is it that you are going?" Guinevere tilted her head, "The castle is under lock down. No one can leave and no one can enter."_

     " _Guinevere, you lying, manipulative cumberworld!" Morgana yelled as they approached each other._

     " _Arturia needs to die! The kingdom cannot fall like this!"_

_Morgana grit her teeth and immediately hissed, "You changed fate and that means that you will be next!"_

     "What I am asking you, Diarmuid, is your help in order to get Arturia back in the throne. I know that you have nothing to do with Logres because you are from Hibernia, but I do need your aid. You would be a perfect addition to the resistance. What do you say?" Merlin gave a hopeful smile, wishing that Diarmuid would agree to his proposition.


	35. XXXV

     Diarmuid nibbled at his lower lip and did not even think of letting it go. He wasn't biting it hard enough to draw blood, but enough to cause a little stinging. He rubbed his neck and rolled his shoulders as he thought of the idea. Arturia was being odd lately, and he was just waiting for her to dismiss him officially—he did not want to cause her any inconvenience and so he thought about Camelot.

     "You see," Diarmuid breathed as he thought of the proposition. If he declined, he would not be breaking the promise he made his brother, but that would mean that he wasn't going to protect Arturia. "I do not—I...um..."

     "You are afraid of the consequences, yes?" Merlin tilted his head slightly.

     "Of course, I always am," the knight of Hibernia shrugged, "I would give up my life for Arturia, but I do not want to hurt my family."

     "Maybe you should ask your brother for his blessing." The young wizard gave a light smile as they both entered the tavern.

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and shook his head, "I am afraid I would not have time for that."

     "I would beg to differ."

     "And why would that—"

     "Diarmuid!" He heard the oddly familiar voice of a quite annoying man. The cocky tone of voice had almost caught him off guard, if it weren't for the fact that he had noticed the blond as he stood from a stool.

     Diarmuid's eyes grew wide and he wished that the prince was not there. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders, "Gilgamesh," he nearly gritted his teeth.

     "Prince," the blond hissed as the other man had forgotten his title when addressing him.

     "What are you doing here?" Diarmuid thought it best to skip the fancy introductions and cut right to the most important part, "Did you run away from my brother?"

     Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes into slits and crossed his arms over his chest, "He came along with me, of course. That Jeanne lady and him are leaving the horses in the stable." He spoke and turned his attention to Diarmuid, "And who is this?"

     "I am Merlin," the wizard greeted, "I am Arturia's childhood friend, and you must be Gilgamesh."

     "The prince of Uruk and Arturia's fiancé." Gilgamesh blinked as he eyed both men.

     Merlin grinned and let out a little chuckle, "Fiancé? She never mentioned that. I would think she would not move on that quickly after the death of her lover." His smile slowly fading as he spoke the dreadful words. Lancelot was always such an honourable knight, and even if he knew that the violet haired man was behind the disappearance and poor state of his Prince; he never doubted the man's kindness and morals.

     Gilgamesh opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by a loud cheer and someone pouncing on Diarmuid from behind, "Little brother!" The blue haired man was basically on top of Diarmuid.

     Diarmuid groaned but let out a laugh at the childish behaviour of his older brother, usually older brothers acted the least childish, but Cú was an exception, "Cú Chulainn, what are you doing all the way here?"

     "I came to take care of my brother who _always_ seems to be getting in trouble with women." Cú rolled his eyes as he let go.

     "And to also help the prince get her kingdom back." The short blonde lady came from behind them, and Diarmuid noted her to be the young lady that his brother would always dream of.

     Diarmuid looked over at the amethyst-eyed woman, "How do you—"

     "I have my ways," she smiled innocently and shrugged.

     Gilgamesh growled, "Yes, she is rather unbearable."

     "Watch your mouth," Cú barked at the snobby prince before glancing at Jeanne and giving her a toothy smile.

     The prince crossed his arms and huffed, "And you say you are _not_ a mongrel."

     "Well," Merlin began, "If you do want to help her majesty, then we best be off!"

     "But the wine!" Diarmuid reasoned and he watched the wizard smirk.

     "Of course," he grinned before heading towards the counter and seconds later he returned with a bottle of wine in his hands, "So then it is settled; you will help us." Merlin smiled at Diarmuid promptly and then led him out of the tavern, followed by the other three adults.

     They walked up the hill mostly in silence until Cú whispered in Diarmuid's ear, "Who's the cape man?"

     "Cloak," Merlin corrected and smiled, "My name is Merlin, and I am a friend."

     Cú flinched when he noted that the man had heard him and then bit the inside of his cheek, " _Right_ ; well, then welcome to the team...I guess."

     "I should be saying that to you," the wizard sang as they reached the small house's door.

     There was much too many people crowded in the small living room that Merlin had to dismiss his two guards, and the rest were able to have more space between them.

     Arturia was stunned to see Gilgamesh when he trickled in after the other people and was even a little upset that he was being dragged along, "Why are _they_ here?" Arturia grumbled as she laid eyes upon Cú Chulainn and Gilgamesh—the only men she did not seem to fancy much.

     Cú smirked, "We have come to to your aid, wee lass, I think you should appreciate our gesture."

     "And I do not want you getting any closer to Diarmuid; it jeopardizes our engagement," Gilgamesh added all matter-of-factly.

     "I recall declining your offer, _clearly_." She stared the man down as her green eyes narrowed.

     "As I recall, we sealed the deal with a kiss, I think that you would remember that of all things." The golden prince crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

     Diarmuid let out a cough and then cleared his throat, "A _kiss_?" His brows knitted together and then he gulped, "And you did not _think_ to mention it?"

     Cú Chulainn could not help but laugh out loud. This seemed as if it was one of those plays that the High King always loved to watch; it was simply _prefect_. Cú bit his tongue and tried to muffle his laughter when all the other young adults had landed their eyes upon him. "Forgive me... Sorry," he managed between chuckles.

     "Well, if we are done with jealousy and laughter, I think it best to start strategizing." Merlin interrupted and Cú Chulainn's laugh died down slowly. "Since we are all here together, it would benefit us all if we recruit. Diarmuid, I ask of you again if you would like to join my army."

     Diarmuid glanced at his brother who was seated on the table with his arms crossed over his chest, still trying to stifle his laugh. Yet, when their gaze met, the smile on the blue-haired man's lips faded and he gave a steady nod. Orange eyes flickered back to the young wizard and he took a deep breath, "I accept."

     "Perfect!" He grinned as he rolled out a map of Camelot and part of its surrounding kingdoms on the wooden table. He began the explanation of his tactics that he had been planning since he had been exiled from court by Guinevere. As a wizard, he did not know much of warfare; but he knew just enough to be able to make adequate plans.

     Merlin received some criticism from both Arturia and Cú Chulainn because some aspects were not so intelligent, but that was the entire point of him  showing the plan; because they needed to be perfect and he was no general.

     "So you want to infiltrate the castle with half the troop and then attack from the forest?" Arturia crossed her arms over her chest as she looked over the map.

     "Yes, my prince," Merlin grinned.

     Cú Chulainn sighed and pointed at the forest, "Why from here? When we could attack from the marshes?" His finger glided over the map and landed on the opposite side.

     "Because there is something that we must retrieve from the forest. It is duly important, it will help us defeat her all the more," Merlin reasoned.

     Diarmuid furrowed his brows and tilted his head, "What? It is not as if she is a witch. There is not really much we would need to worry about."

     "Of course," the wizard gave a nod, "but who will believe it when a short girl comes to take the crown of Camelot for herself claiming that she is the true _heir_ of Uther? There will be no one in their right mind that will believe that play. What we must collect is for the people to have fidelity to Arturia—a sign of the supreme ruler."

     Jeanne finally spoke, "And what is that?" She blinked.

     "The sword in the stone; _Excalibur_."

     Arturia's eyes widened as her jaw dropped, "Wait; you are not meaning to say I can pull the sword?" Merlin only stared back at her, "You are telling me that I have the power to pull it from the stone—that is completely ridiculous! Not even Lancelot could do it, let alone a 'short girl'," she huffed.

     "But you are the only one that can pull it!" Merlin argued, "Remember what I told you? The rightful king will come to save Camelot and unite Albion only when he pulls the sword! It is your turn!"

     "We are speaking of a sword that has been stuck in a boulder for millions of years!"

     " _Hundreds_ ," Merlin corrected and then shook his head, "You are the only one that can pull it! You follow all the criteria."

     "I do not! There is no way on earth that I will be able to budge it, let alone pull it."

     "Have faith, for goodness' sake!"

     " _Even_ if I could, it is not a possibility that I can with this horrible state that I am in. I can barely walk from the bed chambers to the kitchen without limping and struggling with lifting a fork."

     Everyone was silent for a while since it seemed that Merlin did not have something to counter attack with until he mumbled under his breath and his eyes shun orange for a quarter of a second, " _There_ , now you can do whatever it is that you want. No more limping or pain; you are healed."

     Arturia blinked and slowly raised her hand towards her arm and softly touched it. She huffed, "Alright, I understand. Suppose I do pull that sword, what do you expect me to do next? Kill Guinevere with it?"

     Merlin sighed as he let his head hang loose, "That will have to be a decision that you alone will make. It, however, is a choice to be made when the time comes and whether or not it happens; it will not be your fault."

     Arturia's meadow gaze dropped from violet eyes down to her hands.

_To kill her friend... Was she truly capable of that?_


	36. XXXVI

     Arturia walked about the small room and contemplated over Guinevere; her friend, her _only_ female friend. They had shared many great moments together, in fact, Arturia had learned plenty of things from her. She had learned how to be a _lady_ from her, how to tie a braid, somewhat bake and even how to put on a dress; before she knew only of armour. They exchanged knowledge and secrets and told one another of men they thought were handsome and Arturia _even_ taught her how to put on armour herself.

     Arturia's heart sank at the memories. She loved her and her heart felt heavy at the thought of taking her life. All the times that Guinevere's smile had brightened her day and the times that they laid watching the stars as Merlin made sure that no one would notice that the two were missing had meant nothing. It was fun to have a friend that cared for her, a friend that knew who she was... but with the betrayal that hung right in front of her, how could Arturia every trust?

     There was a soft knock on the door and Arturia shot her head towards it before speaking, "Yes? Who is it?" She then proceeded to sit on the bed as the blond young lady she had seen entered the room silently.

     "Would you like some tea? I mean, I already brought it but..." The female wandered as she looked down at the two cups of tea and the bread.

     "Oh," Arturia sighed, "Thank you, erm..."

     "Oh, my manners. I am so silly. My name is Jeanne d'Arc. I come from Francia and you are the famous Arturia, yes?"

     Arturia nodded slowly and gave a short smile, "Thank you, Jeanne."

     "I assume you are conflicted, non?" Jeanne sat next to her on the bed and gave her the wooden cup of tea.

     "Conflicted over?" Arturia blinked as she eyed the woman next to her, she had seemed a bit suspicious.

     Jeanne shrugged, "I would be afraid if I had the responsibility of a King on my shoulders, and the duty to possibly take the life of a lady I considered my friend."

     The Englishwoman looked over at her, turning her body and blinking, "In that aspect, I might feel a tad bit conflicted."

     "I guessed as much."

     "And what about you, are you afraid of anything?"

     Jeanne giggled and nodded slightly, "Persecution, but I will always keep true to myself either way."

     Arturia nodded, "Persecution..." she repeated, "What about death?"

     "Death? It does not scare me so much. It must happen one day. Murder, on the other hand is what scares me. Killing someone is also a great fear of mine."

     "You disapprove if I must kill Guinevere?" Arturia leaned against the headboard of the bed and now had her less crossed.

     "I never agree with the death of someone by another's hands. In all my campaigns I had always warned the opposing party before the battle so that they would surrender before any of their men and mine were harmed. Not many people listen to a ' _little girl_ ' and unfortunately, many died as a result. Plus, the life of someone is not mine to take."

     Arturia thought about the last sentence and she pondered on that. Such was the fragile life of a person, it could be taken by another at any time, and Arturia knew that more than Jeanne.

     "Well, in any case, Merlin told me to inform you that we will be heading for Camelot in an hour. Thus—"

     "Thank you Jeanne, I think I understand how precious and delicate life can be, even as a King." Arturia mumbled lightly, having interrupted the other woman.

     Jeanne gave a smile and nodded, "Well, friends try to ease the other's pain."

     Arturia furrowed her brows and blinked, "But we are not exactly friends..."

     "I want to be your friend, would you like to be mine?" The Frenchwoman smiled while she extended her hand, "I promise to always be there when you are in need of me." It was an odd promise for someone she had just met, but Aturia could see the truth and sincerity in Jeanne's eyes.

     Arturia let a grin settle on her lips as she took her hand, "I am in need of a friend like you."

     "Great, then let us go to Camelot and get your throne back." Jeanne smiled lightly and took Arturia's hands in her own, "I am certain that we can be good friends."

     Arturia and Jeanne both stood from the bed and headed out to the living room, they met with Merlin who was at the dinner table speaking with Thomas and Cú Chulainn. Jeanne was unsure of where the other two men had gone but it was probably something meticulous that Merlin had ordered of them.

     Jeanne approached Cú Chulainn and smiled down at him as Arturia slowly followed behind, "Well, we are ready to head to Camelot, is everyone else ready?"

     "Gilgamesh and Diarmuid were going to check on the horses and they will be bringing them back up here." Cú Chulainn answered her question.

     It had taken a while for the men to return with the horses, but upon their arrival, Thomas bid them all a farewell and they were already on their way to Camelot with his best wishes. He had given them some food for their journey and even thanked Arturia and Diarmuid for their company.

     "The house was very lively, and I missed having people around." Thomas had mumbled in Arturia's ear when hugging her goodbye.

     The day was warm and the sun was halfway into the sky as it wanted to set soon, but not soon enough for them to start their journey back. They traveled only for a couple of hours until they reached a forest where it seemed that many people were already setting up camp for the night.

     Arturia dismounted her horse and joined Merlin as he walked past the many men and towards a main tent by a clearing. Some men had stopped chatting as the group passed them by and others did not even care to look their way. Some of the rowdy men were familiar to her as others seemed to not be, she wondered if her dear friends were among the troop that was aiding them.

     She looked about the gathering men before entering the big tent that Merlin had disappeared into and there she saw, in the dimly lit and dusty tent, two of her trusted friends. Arturia grinned and waved lightly upon seeing them returning the gestures.

     "Gawain, Bedivere, how are you two?"

     Gawain blinked at his cousin and looked her up and down before whispering over to Bedivere something. He then stood and walked towards her, taking her in his arms, "I did not believe Merlin when he said that you were alive, much less that you were a woman." A laugh erupted from her cousin's chest and then he pulled away from the hug, "A woman! You are indeed a lady. A _real_ lady, this is astonishing, Artie."

     Arturia laughed and shrugged, "Yes, it is hard to believe is not?"

     Gawain gave a laugh and looked behind Arturia only to notice the other men behind her and yet another lady. Gawain's hands dropped from Arturia's shoulders and then he stepped aside and walked towards the violet-eyed woman, "Well, hello, milady." Gawain bowed slightly and took Jeanne's hand as he kissed the back of it. "What is such a beautiful lady doing in such a unfitting  place?"

     Jeanne smiled, soft blush dusting her cheeks, "I am here to help with the battle."

     Gawain straightened his back and winked, "Oh, a fighter too," he clucked, "I will be looking forward to fighting alongside you, milady."

     Cú Chulainn cleared his throat and pushed past Gawain before walking to Arturia and leading her back towards Merlin. "Well, enough with the flattering and let us finalize the plans of what we are going to do," he spoke, not exactly jealous of the attention that Gawain was giving Jeanne but just a little bothered that the man thought it was the time to flirt during such a serious and vital time.

     Everyone gathered about the big table at the tent and Merlin began to explain the final plan. Some of the troop would be infiltrated within the castle; such as Bedivere, Gawain and other trusted knights. The remaining troop would be divided in half and one flank would attack from the north while the other came through the North-west, where the forest lay.

     Everyone had been in accordance with the plan and they were all divided by Merlin to their respectful position. Gawain managed to leave the tent after kissing Jeanne's hand once more and was soon followed by Bedivere who accompanied him back to the castle for the night.

     After all the men had left the tent, Arturia and Jeanne remained behind in silence, "Well, your cousin seems like a _coquet_." Jeanne giggled as she turned to Arturia.

     "He is truly a gem," Arturia giggled lightly and watched as Jeanne leaned back on the table where the plans had been before, "That Cú Chulainn is too, as I have come to notice."

     "Is he?" Jeanne tilted her head.

     Arturia shrugged, "Diarmuid told me that he was a bit... well... _playful_ , to say the least."

     Jeanne frowned and sighed, "I was truly hoping he would be a gentleman, guess you cannot ever find an honest man." She laughed and Arturia joined her. "What about Diarmuid? How is he?"

     Arturia blinked as she recalled how Guinevere had asked her that exact question, "I... would not really know."

     "Of course you would, you have spent quite the amount of time with him." Jeanne kicked her legs as she was now sitting on the table.

     Arturia shrugged, "I assume he is a gentleman. He seems to have his priorities straight. And he can cook."

     "That is always good in a man," the Frenchwoman tittered, "I wish my brothers could cook. That would have made my life as simple as a breeze."

     "That would have been good." Arturia joined and then her smile slowly faded as she thought about the battle that was soon approaching, "I detest war..."

     Jeanne threw her head back and paid close attention to the seams of the red tent as she gave a loud sigh, "As do I."

     They were both silent for the majority of time but it felt like a pleasing silence; not like the silence Arturia had come to dislike. In fact, this silence was refreshing—it was one she felt comfortable in and secure, one she felt was a time for reflection and pensive thoughts.

     "Arturia, what are you looking forward to the most?" Jeanne huffed as she gave her legs another swing.

     "What do you mean?" Jeanne tilted her head towards the other female.

     Jeanne was silent for a short while, "I mean, when you get back to Camelot; what are you looking forward to the most?"

     Arturia thought about it for a short while and then responded, "I am looking forward to letting my friend live. I am hoping," she dropped her head to look at her feet, "that she has a reasoning behind all this so I can forgive her."

     "You know," Jeanne began, "Not everyone has good reasoning. I do not want you to expect something as big as that so quickly... I have learnt that the hard way; people are cruel for their own gain. Reasoning is not always going to be just, Arturia."

     The green eyed girl gulped and rubbed her face, "We will have to see," she shrugged, "I am simply hoping."

     Merlin entered the tent again and smiled at the two women, "Well hello ladies," he greeted, "I think it is best to get in position and bid your comrades a farewell as Diarmuid and Cú Chulainn will be with the Northern squad."

     Jeanne jumped off the table with a nod and a smile on her lips, "Will do, my good sir," she grinned and slowly proceeded to leave the tent.

     Merlin turned around and left the tent as well, leaving Arturia all alone again, but not for long. Diarmuid stepped through the fabric and gave Arturia a bright smile, "Hello," he waved his hand.

     "Diarmuid," she nodded at him.

     Diarmuid scratched the back of his neck and grinned, "I know that things are a bit rough between us, but I wanted to wish you all the best. I wanted to tell you that you have my full support; no matter what decision you choose."

     Arturia let a smile slip onto her lips and she sighed, "Thank you Diarmuid. It is nice to have your loyalty, as you have also been a good knight and man to me."

     "It is honour to serve you still. You are truly one of the best masters that I have ever had, and I will never take back my word on that." He was blushing and Arturia was feeling giddy for what he had said about her.

     They were silent for a while and then Diarmuid turned about to leave.

     "Wait, Diarmuid," Arturia called behind him as butterflies settled in the pit of her tummy, "I want to tell you something."

     Diarmuid turned about, an eyebrow raised as his beauty mark was slightly wrinkled when he narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Yes?"

     She felt her heart flutter and she finally found the beauty mark alluring— _somewhat_. He truly was handsome, she thought to herself. "I wanted to wish you all the best." She smiled, "And make sure that you meet me again in one piece. No holes on you—not even scratches; understand?"

     Diarmuid grinned and nodded, "Anything for milady. I also wish you all the best for tomorrow's big battle...as I had said."

     Arturia returned the smile and gave him a nod.

     "If that will be all that milady wishes to say, I should be off." He bowed once more—a deep and respectful bow—before turning on his heel and making his way out of the tent.

     He felt a grip on his wrist and he slowly turned to face the short blonde who had his hand in a grasp, "Milady?" He tilted his head.

     "I was not exactly finished, Diarmuid." There seemed to be a change in atmosphere, Diarmuid noted, one he had not felt near Arturia but only once—when she had met with Lancelot.

     "Forgive me," he mumbled under his breath, slightly fearful of what was to come.

     Arturia lifted her head to meet his gaze, determination in her clear green eyes, "Diarmuid," she began.

     Diarmuid gulped and nodded, she had been a little too close for him _not_ to notice.

     "I have the answer." She blinked once and he could feel her staring into his soul.

     "Erm...what answer...?" He tried to avoid her green eyes like the plague but it wasn't working for him.

     The action was swift, short and a little impulsive. Her pale cream hands gripped his tunic lightly and his orange rust eyes were as wide as peaches. His heart skipped a few beats (maybe five...or more?) as chapped lips were gently pressed against his. His eye lids slowly fell and his hands landed on her waist as he tried to memorize the soft feeling of her lips against his. It felt as endless as a million years but also short as milliseconds when she pulled away.

     " _Arturia_..." Her name left his lips and it made her heart flutter.

     Her hand flew to her mouth and it seemed like she regretted her decision as she turned around and then back to him. He was expecting her to apologize but instead she said something that caught him off guard even more, "Promise me that you will not disappear, _please_?"


	37. XXXVII

     Determined footsteps were what filled the many corridors of the stone castle. Loud and amplified as no one was speaking and there were barely any guards about. A door was thrown open as Guinevere called out to the person that was sitting on the bed, looking out the window.

     " _Guinevere_ ," the woman on the bed blinked as she turned her head to the upset royal, "what is it this time around? As I recall, I have not done anything to make you upset as of late... which gives you little excuse to enter my chambers unannounced."

     Guinevere crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, "No you have not, you are correct. I am only here to tell you that you need to give me another insight on the future."

     "I thought that I had already made it clear that I would not do that again; we both know what happened the last time that I told you."

     "Morgana!" The Queen grit her teeth, "You have to do it."

     "Or what? You will execute me? I do not think that will work a second time. The people are already upset with a Queen regent, they will not stand it if you kill the last Pendragon," Morgana shrugged as she leaned her head on her hand.

    Guinevere rolled her eyes and sighed, "Morgana; I promise not to act upon it this time."

    "And why should I believe you?"

    "Because this is about my child! Morgana! _Please_! You know not what it feels like to have a child and the need to protect them from everything. Morgana, I must know if my baby is going to die." Guinevere was still being strict, even as she was showing weakness.

    Morgana huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, "Everyone must die, Guinevere, I think you would be one to know that more than anyone."

     " _Morgana_ ," the regent grit between clenched teeth, "You know exactly what I mean. Will my child die an _untimely_ death?"

     "Humanity always thinks deaths are untimely, _queen_." She sat back against the headboard of the bed and watched as Guinevere's red dress moved every now and again.

     "I command you to tell me, Morgana!" The brunette yelled as she extended her hand towards the sorceress.

     Morgana clucked and tilted her head back, "I do not obey the rules of a fake monarch, I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon and I do not remember making an oath to _you_."

     There was a grunt and then the following words came lightly as if to coax the other female into spilling what she knew, "You know not the pains of a mother, witch, you know not what I am going through."

      "Did you think about that when you killed my sister?" Morgana was not going to feel pity for her, she would not forgive her for what she had done to her sister, "When you _murdered_ Arturia? As I know not of being a mother, you know not of being a sister. You know not my pain. I had told you not to act upon fate and yet you thought yourself clever and ruined _everything_. Your son now holds the same fate as Arturia, and only you are to blame."

     "I never—"

      The pale-green eyed lady stopped the other from continuing, "Whether or not you meant to kill your own son, his blood will stain your hands. I hope that you are prepared for the moment." It was a cruel lie, but Guinevere needed to understand the pain she had caused to all those around her.

     Guinevere's vision blurred and she shook her head as she covered her mouth, "Please, tell me that it is not true; my son will not die by my hands." Her voice came out as a soft whimper and she was afraid, the vision of the lily in his mouth oh so vivid in her mind.

     "You will be as guilty of your son's death as you are of Arturia's and Lancelot's."

     There was silence and Guinevere dropped her head, everything she had done flooding into her mind. She gave a sour frown and looked back up at Morgana. "Lancelot is..."

     "Yes. Guinevere, at your hands no less." Morgana thought to better dig the hole deeper until the woman felt remorse, "If I were you, I would need to rid my hands of the blood that covers them."

     "Goodbye." Guinevere was shaking, her threatening demeanour lost as she thought about the only thing that she truly had— _her son_.

     Arturia awoke in the middle of the night with sweat glistening on her forehead and her throat dry and aching. She had dreamt of when Lancelot had died and the time where he had first tried to kill her. His face haunted her dreams and even in the daylight, she could feel him near her. She sat up slowly on the small bed and took a deep breath as she rubbed her arms.

     She closed her eyes shut for a short while and finally ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it so that the dampness would dry off quickly. She gently and hesitantly slipped out of bed after stretching a bit, taking a blanket and wrapping it around herself as she left the tent that she shared with Jeanne.

     The moonlight filtered through the blooming trees and she took a deep breath of the sweet smells around her. There were some guards on watch that were chatting a few meters away and it seemed like they had not heard her because they kept on chattering on about the big battle they were to have the following day.

     Arturia turned her head towards a small sound that she heard, it sounded as if someone had stepped on a twig. She analyzed the darkness in the forest and she noted that a shadow scurried in. Seeing no harm in the darker figure, Arturia followed pursuit.

     Arturia continued to follow the figure further into the forest until it stopped and its tracks and she could see as purple shone below the moonlight, "Lancelot..." she breathed softly as the figure turned and revealed the stoic face of her former lover.

     "Arturia," a smile replaced the man's frown and grey eyes glistened as they reflected the dull white light of the moon through the tree branches.

     She looked over his face a couple of times to identify him. It was impossible, he was not actually there... She was not truly seeing him, _was she_? There was no way that a dead man—a man she saw fall before her eyes—was standing in front of her; a smile on his lips and his grey eyes sparkling, "But," tears started to settle at the corner of her eyes as his smile became more loving and less saddening.

     "Arturia," he slowly walked to her, landing a ghostly hand on her cheek—which was when she noticed he still wasn't alive, "You are looking as beautiful as ever."

     "Lancelot... I...uh, er, what are you doing here?" She tripped over her words as she tried to touch his hand with her own before he could retract it.

     Lancelot shrugged and took a deep breath, "I wanted to see you, make sure that you were alright."

     Arturia reached for him, but he would keep a distance between them every time that she took a step forwards, " _Please_."

     "Think not of me anymore, my love, I am gone. I will never come back to your arms, you cannot hold me. Do not hold onto me, Arturia, do not."

     "But Lancelot, I—"

     "No, my love, I will let you free as you will let me." He began to fade, disappear into the dust and Arturia ran to where he stood, but by the time that she reached him there was nothing left of her to hold on to.

     "Arturia," she gasped as she shot up from the bed. She looked about to see Merlin sitting next to her bed, a frown on his face and Jeanne hovering behind him.

     "Merlin?" She looked around the tent to see that she was no longer in the forest under the moonlight, "What am I doing here?"

     Merlin looked back at Jeanne and they both exchanged a confused look before turning back to Arturia and blinking down at her, "What do you mean?" Jeanne was the one to ask the question.

     "The forest... Lancelot was—he...It was all a dream? But...I..." She was unable to speak in full sentences as she thought about the man in her dreams and how real it all had felt. The leaves under her naked feet, the smell of the sleeping spring forest, the smile on the man's face.

     "I cannot understand you, Arturia." Merlin said as his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed in a straight line.

     "I... I had a dream about Lancelot." She looked down at her hand and then ran a finger across her lips as she felt a tinge of guilt in her gut as she thought about the kiss that Diarmuid and she had shared the previous evening.

     Merlin stood from the seat slowly and extended a hand to her, "We must go get you that sword now." It was as if he had completely ignored her and helped her out of the bed.

     Arturia noticed that Jeanne too was keeping silent as they helped her with her armour and chainmail. It was a refreshing feeling for Arturia, to be a knight once more, to be covered in armour and hold onto a sword. Now that she was going to battle she could take her mind off of Diarmuid and Lancelot.

     Both Jeanne and Merlin followed as Arturia exited the tent and they all walked towards the center of the camp. Where it seemed that people were gathered around something.

     The sun was beginning to rise and most of the troop had already had breakfast and it had been time for them to begin preparation for their advancement. Merlin set the time for the midday, but until then, they were all waiting for Arturia to prove herself worthy of leading the army of Camelot.

     Many eyes were on her as the crest of the Pendragon household was branded on the breastplate of the armour. It was the wondering eyes that caused her uneasiness and made her fear the fate of all her troops. War lead to death and the many faces of the men around her were subject to it.

     Merlin gave a wide smile to the crowd of knights and raised the banner that Jeanne would be holding for the battle, "Men, this is the heir to the Pendragon name, the once and future King of Albion. Arturia Pendragon will lead us all to victory and when we face Guinevere, the mighty King will do Camelot justice."

     Arturia stepped into the crowd and in the middle of it was the legendary sword, stuck within a granite igneous rock and embedded to the hilt. The sword itself was beautiful as she watched only the exposed hilt that seemed to be made out of gold and silver. As she approached the shining object she noted that there were many designs and words carved all over the sword, gems decorating every inch that wasn't already decorated.

     "I cannot do this," Arturia turned back to Merlin, a frown on her lips, "There is absolutely no way that I can pull a sword from _solid_ rock."

     Merlin smiled reassuringly and nodded, "You can, Arturia, you are the once and future King. You will unite Albion and return in its time of need."

     "Merlin, I cannot pull that sword; it has remained there for many years, far more than any of us here have lived, you cannot expect me to pull it. It is simply impossible; do you expect me to be looked upon like a fool?"

     "Arturia, have faith in yourself."

     The daughter of Uther Pendragon took a deep breath as she positioned her hand on the pommel of the weapon and took another breath. The fear of failure was slithering into her mind and she was starting to become afraid of the judging stares of the people around her.

     She pondered on how she was going to pull it. If she twisted her arm to hold it properly, the force she was going to use to pull it would surely break her arm or dislocate her shoulder. But simply pulling it up with one hand would not hold enough force to make it budge; and so she wrapped both hands around the grip and gave a silent prayer before giving it all the strength that she had.

     But the sword did not budge. She gulped as the sweat trickled from her brow and she tried once again. It would not happen.

     "Arturia, you can do it." She heard Jeanne cheer her on and she gave it one last tug, the sword budging slightly and then she pulled on it gently; it slowly slid out. It was a miracle in her eyes as it shun in the bright sunlight and she felt its familiar weight in her hands as she pulled it fully out of the stone.

     A gasp resonated from the crowd of onlookers as Arturia lifted the sword in the air.

     "The true heir of Uther Pendragon will lead us all to victory!" Merlin announced and everyone cheered.

     "Long Live the King." It was repeated by the crowd in unison and Jeanne had run up to Arturia and hugged her tightly.

     "My King," she smiled as she pulled away from the hug and Arturia returned the small gesture.

     Arturia looked down at the sword again and read the words inscribed on the fuller of the sword. Ancient words she could not recognize but she knew were important and probably were a prophecy that she had yet to fulfill.


	38. XXXVIII

     Arturia was mounted on Lancelot's stallion, reins in her left hand and the new sword in her right. She took a breath and she slowly pet the horse's head as she looked up at the sun and felt the weight of her chainmail. She turned back to Jeanne and saw the young woman holding the banner with the Pendragon crest.

     The Frenchwoman bit her lip and smiled, "It will be alright." They both looked back at the troop of men; there weren't many, but enough for her to feel confident.

     Arturia nodded in agreement and then led her horse ahead of the troop that she would lead into battle. She looked around for Merlin but he was nowhere to be found, then she also took note that Gilgamesh had gone missing as well. In fact, she had not seem him in the past day or so.

     She had no time to think about where the man had scurried off to for the tower bell of the city rang. They could hear it from the edge of the forest as it indicated that midday had arrived and it was time to commence the great battle.

     Arturia slowly raised the sword in her hand up to the air and then she fastened the reins around her hand. She signalled the horse to move as fast as it could and she could hear the roar of the sound of galloping horses as men followed her towards the castle. She felt odd, it was not the sensation that she would have before every battle as this one was very different—she felt _ill_.

     As the horses approached the walls around the castle, the main gate was lifted rapidly by a knight loyal to her and Arturia had seen the familiar scenery of her castle and the huge court. It had seemed as if they were already warned about the siege because arrows came raining down on her men and she could see all the shadows fall on the floor as if a cloud had come to cover the sun.

    The horses continued to gallop as the some men fell, but Jeanne was still holding onto the banner with no injuries and Arturia soldiered on, even after her horse would swerve and go about the raining arrows so that it would not get hit. A line of men emerged from the shadows of the castle court to barricade the oncoming soldiers.

     "Jeanne, go to your left, now!" Arturia shouted and Jeanne quickly swerved her horse so she would not hit the men head on and they would not injure her horse. Her mare leapt about and it disappeared within the crowd of men that were drawing their bows at the General's command.

     "Fire!" Arturia yelled as she dropped her hand and the first flank of the enemy was shot down by arrows. She held a shield close to her body and commanded the man to move forwards and engage in close combat.

     There was not much of a strategy; the plan was to get Arturia in the castle and before Guinevere, but now that Jeanne was missing within the crowd, it was going to be hard to distract the soldiers that were approaching like waves.

     The small troop of knights that were still loyal within the castle wore red bands around their arms and began to attack the troop of men from the back; trying to out flank them.

     Cries filled the air. The sound of clashing swords, screaming men, and tearing flesh tormented Arturia as she struck people down from up on her horse. She was using her weapon against her own people and it disgusted her.

     There were many men that had seen the sword in her hands and stopped short, not daring to step closer for the Holy Sword would be what they died by and by the hands of the new king.

     She was pulled down from her horse by a big man and she fell to the floor with a loud thud and her ears began to ring as her helmet hit the stones and her head collided with the floor. Everything blurred over for seconds as people fell down and the blood began to stain the floor of the castle's court. The sun in the sky betrayed what was occurring below it.

     There was a pain in her arm and she noticed that the tall man that loomed over her had his foot on her shield and her arm was being twisted. She scanned for the sword but it was much too far for her to reach as the man that towered over her prepared to plunge his own sword through her chest.

     She watched the pointed edge of the man's weapon and held her breath. Suddenly, she saw another sword pierce through the tall man's gut and then get retracted. The man groaned as he fell over to reveal the blond man behind him, "Gilgamesh," she breathed as she felt her arms slowly untwist, "I thought you had left."

     "And let people lay a finger on my Fiancée?" The Foreign prince let out a laugh before helping her to her feet. He kept watch around them as she scrambled to get her sword and then he signalled her to enter the castle with him.

     "I know how to enter!" Arturia called him over and they hid behind a pillar of one of the wings of the castle.

     Gilgamesh helped with fighting off a few soldiers that had come to them, "I brought extra troop, thought I would inform you."

     She had noticed that there were soldiers fighting for her, "You went to get mercenaries?" She turned to him as they checked if anyone had seen them enter a hole in the ground.

     Gilgamesh nodded and closed the sewer above them, "Are we honestly going through feces? This is a _battle_."

     Arturia hushed him as she continued to walk through the silent corridor which led her to a bigger one, "I know how to get to Guinevere's room from here."

     "Of course you know the catacombs of your own castle." Gilgamesh grumbled as they continued through the dark hallways under the castle.

     The white mare kicked and whined as it started to get out of control; knocking Jeanne to the ground and nearly stepping on her. Jeanne, however, was quick to get back on her feet and draw her sword as a man approached her.

     Their swords clashed and the sound resonated in her ears. She tried to block all the man's attacks but it was hard for someone who did not ever attack someone.

     Jeanne held one hand behind her back so that she could have more balance as she took steps and leaps back. The man swung his sword recklessly and she endured every single attack, trying not to get hurt by the blade before her.

     "Why do you not attack?" The dark haired man growled as he lifted the sword in the air to strike her again.

     Jeanne chuckled as she blocked the sword again, hearing the noise that the swords made, "I do not kill." She replied as she took another leap back while another attack was directed at her.

     The man took a step back and furrowed his brows, "Then why—"

     Jeanne locked weapons with him before twisting her wrist and knocking both their weapons off their hands and brought her fists up to her chin, "Hand to hand?" She smirked and the man looked at her a bit surprised before obeying.

     The man threw a punch, not expecting much from the short girl before him, but the lady dodged and threw an attack of her own, hitting the man in the stomach and winding him temporarily. Her enemy growled and threw two punches; one succeeding in hitting her in the jaw.

     Jeanne winced and tried again, not landing a hit this time around; but being able to dodge again.

     The loud cries of falling men were getting to her and she was starting to get distracted with the fact that they were all dying around her. Another punch landed on her cheek and she fell back on her butt. She licked her broken lip, the taste of blood stinging her tongue, and tried to kick the man away as he approached her with a small knife.

     She was successful in kicking him hard enough to buy her time to get her sword from the floor and stand. She ran away from the man as she still had no intention of hurting him with such a brutal weapon until she hit a person head on.

     She took a deep breath as she stepped back, ready for the lance that the man was holding to penetrate through her. Her violet eyes trailed up the figure and she saw the familiar face of Cú Chulainn. She gave a sigh of relief as his red eyes landed upon her and Diarmuid came up behind him, "Thank God that you are both safe."

     "Where is Arturia?" Diarmuid asked as he twirled his red spear and faced another enemy.

     "We were separated," Jeanne replied trying not to move her face too much as it had started to ache, maybe the fist fight had not been such a good idea. In fact, maybe battle itself had not been the brightest idea she ever had.

     Cú Chulainn took Jeanne's wrist and pulled her along with him, while deflecting blows with Gae Bolg. He would not use Gea Bolg's full power as he knew how bloody and horrible it would be to take the weapon off the enemy. Jeanne was dragged towards the entrance of the castle as the door was already knocked down, it seemed that once Diarmuid and Cú Chulainn's troops had arrived it was much easier to break through.

     Diarmuid watched as Cú Chulainn and Jeanne advanced but he was determined to get his mind off of his problems. He took Gea Dearg and knocked a man off his feet and used Gea Buidhe to stop a man from coming any closer to him.

     Diarmuid turned around and he suddenly felt a scrape on his cheek as an arrow nearly missed his eye. He'd let his guard down for less than a second and he had almost lost an eye. It had been a while since Diarmuid had been in battle, so he was a bit rusty in that aspect but he had never been this close to near blindness. Diarmuid rubbed the streak of blood from his cheek and lifted his lances into a ready position. He saw a man from the corner of his eye charging at him with a lance as well and he turned to face him, blocking his frontal attack with his shorter spear and launched his longer one forwards, but the enemy was quick on his feet and he was able to dodge the fatal blow.

     He had beaten many men before, and one more was not going to hurt him.

     "Here!" Arturia ran up a flight of stairs and Gilgamesh followed close behind so that he would not get lost in the secret tunnels.

     She opened a panel and entered the top floor of the castle where she knew Guinevere's room to be. She peaked around the corner and saw a handful of guards standing watch by the door and heard the crying of a baby.

     Gilgamesh landed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it in assurance before he walked towards the group of men.

     Arturia nearly called out to him to return but she could not make herself known or else she had smaller chances of entering Guinevere's room. She watched silently as all the men turned their heads to Gilgamesh and he gave them a smile, "Catch me if you can." She heard him chuckle as he drew his sword, "Mongrels."

     She hid behind the corner as the four men were distracted with getting a hold of Gilgamesh as he swung his golden sword about, trying to hurt someone. The blond prince seemed to take down two of the soldiers before getting the other two furious. She sneaked past the distracted men that had followed Gilgamesh to another corridor and slowly entered Guinevere's room.

     The brunette woman held the child in her arms as she cradled it, but her head shot up upon hearing the closing of the door, " _Arturia_?" Her brown eyes were wide and she was pale white.

 


	39. IXL

_Guinevere_

     Guinevere stood from her seat and passed the baby to the wet nurse, "Keep him safe," she ordered and then directed the woman to one of the secret passage ways hidden within the walls of her room. She held fear back as she watched the woman leave with the baby and she straightened her back. She fixed her black dress and turned back to look at Arturia, disbelief leaking in her brown eyes.

     Arturia could tell that the  woman had been afraid, maybe, and quite distressed because her hair was unkempt and even her eyes seemed tired, dark circle lining them. She took a deep breath as she looked at her old best friend. She missed her, and she was so tempted to drop her sword and hug her tightly, but she knew that Guinevere would not be so inclined to give up.

     "I thought that you had died, I mean, one would think that after three times of attempted murder you would understand," Guinevere kept her head held high and a disappointed frown formed on her lips, "I thought that Lancelot had killed you the last time around."

     "Sorry to disappoint you, milady," Arturia spoke as she recalled he sight of Lancelot.

     Guinevere nodded as she took a step towards Arturia, "I see you got the sword. I assume you are planning to overthrow me, are you?" She blinked.

     The blonde sighed and shook her head, "I do not want to hurt you Guinevere, and I care very much about you. I suggest that we fix this all up. Yes?" Arturia sheathed her sword and offered a hand.

     Guinevere looked over the pale hand and then back up to Arturia's eyes. The green gaze was so warm and inviting—so forgiving and pure. She raised her hand and began to reach for Arturia's but then she closed it and shook her head, "All I wanted was to save Camelot! And you had to die... But you _didn't_."

     "Guinevere."

     "Arturia! You had _everything_! You had the love of Lancelot, a caring father, a kingdom at your feet! You had a sister and friends I wish I could have had! But now, when I have a kingdom and a child—you want to take it away from me? I worked so hard for all of this!"

     Arturia dropped her hand and took a step back, "And what did you do when you wanted me killed? What did you do when you kidnapped me and took me far away to a place I had never been familiar with? You took away all I knew, Guinevere. You had the person that I _loved_ try to kill me. You wanted me murdered!"

     "For Camelot! I wanted to save Camelot!"

     "By killing me? Guinevere, I thought that we were friends—we shared so much, you taught me all I know about being a lady and I _care_ for you. You were my only female friend! Then you ordered someone to stab me in the back for you, quite literally."

     Guinevere looked away, "Then what do you want me to do?"

     "Give up. We should fix these problems, Guinevere." Arturia blinked as she extended her hand again.

     Guinevere shook her head and walked to the headboard of the bed.

     Arturia was unsure of what the woman was doing until she caught sight of a sword being pulled from between the nightstand and the bed. She drew her own sword and gulped, "Guinevere, I do not want to fight, please."

     "I cannot back down. My child must be king now, I will fight for his throne." The brunette raised her sword and pointed it at Arturia, "Even if it means that I will die."

     "Guin, do not do this. Do not make yourself a traitor."

     "I should have killed you myself while I could." Guinevere tightened her grip on the sword and then she approached Arturia, lifting it so that she was ready to attack.

     Arturia deflected the first blow, not putting in too much force because she knew that she would hurt Guinevere.

     "Ugh!" Diarmuid deflected a blow with his red lance as his yellow one had gone missing when someone knocked it out of his hands. He had followed Jeanne and Cú Chulainn but lost them halfway into the main corridor and even had someone trailing behind him.

     The Irishman grunted as he launched his weapon forwards trying to injure the man before him. He tried to land a blow but his opponent was very good, way too good, "Your name?" Diarmuid asked as he fought the swordsman. He liked to exchange names with worthy opponents.

     "My name is John, and yours?" The man raised a dark eyebrow, a smile curling his lips as his curly damp blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

     "Diarmuid. You are quite good," he complimented with a wide smile.

     "Thank you, you as well," the man laughed as they continued to deflect each other's blows. The sound of clashing steel resonating through the hallways.

     Diarmuid attacked from the right but the man was quick to block and work on his footing before getting enough strength to fight back.

     The lancer blocked as the swordsman threw an attack, and another one. Diarmuid remained in defence but did not plan on being there for a long time. Now that the man was getting closer, it was getting harder to stab him with the long weapon.

     Diarmuid created distance between them by jumping back and was finally able to fully control his weapon and he thrust it forward, hurting the man's left arm.

     The man caught Diarmuid's spear once he had gotten close enough, he took the red spear in his hand and pulled on it with quite a bit of force that Diarmuid was pulled forwards as well, letting the spear slip out of his hands. This was usually when he would use his shorter spear, but since it had gone missing, there was nothing he could do but try to dodge the other man's strikes.

     Diarmuid was able to dodge most of the blows as his lance had been discarded, except, he had not calculated his jump enough and he cursed himself as he felt the sharp sword stab his upper thigh. He fell back with a curse word and was able to grab a hold of his lance before the man struck a final blow.

     Diarmuid locked the sword with his lance as he lay on the floor with the other man pushing his weapon down above him. He grunted as he pushed his lance up so that it would not choke him.

     "Where are you even taking me?" Jeanne grumbled as the man dragged her down the foreign castle's hallways. He had his hand on her wrist protectively and she could see blood trickling from his arm.

     The man did not respond until he opened a random door and took a look inside, "Somewhere safe. If you do not kill the do not involve yourself in a battle, for God's sake, Jeanne." He had sounded irritated as he shoved her inside.

     "Excuse me, _sir_ , do not use the Lord's name in vain," Jeanne glared up at the man as she was pushed into the room, "Plus, I can fight."

     "You can, but you do not kill."

     Jeanne sighed and kept her glare, "Oh, so you are telling me that you are a killing expret of some sort?"

     Cú Chulainn rolled his eyes as he began to close the door, "Jeanne, in a battle, you have to be prepared to kill. If you are not prepared to face the truth then I advise you not to go to war, you will not be able to protect yourself like that," he said, "Now stay here, I will come back for you later." He closed the door and it seemed like he had barricaded it from the outside because she could not open it.

     Jeanne grunted in exasperation as she knocked on the door, "Come on, Cú Chulainn, I have to help! You cannot just leave me in here!"

     She did not hear anything from the other side of the door and she took it as the man had left her locked in a room she did not even know. Rage bubbled up inside her and looked around for something she could use to open the big wooden door open.

     The room seemed to have belonged to a ward, or probably even a royal. It was extravagant and rather spacious. She took a chair from the desk and walked up to the door once again. She then lifted the chair and hauled it over her shoulder before smashing it against the door. The door shook but it wasn't enough to open it.

     Violet eyes scanned the room again after the chair had broken apart and then she saw a night stand. She took it and went to smash it against the door but it was much too heavy for her to lift in the air. Jeanne remembered her sword and drew it from the scabbard before hacking away at the door. After what felt like ages, she stopped and sheathed the weapon.

     There was one last option, run into it. Jeanne took a sharp and deep breath before holding her right forearm and rolling her shoulders. It wouldn't hurt _that_ much, right? She positioned herself so that she would clash against the door with her shoulder to break it down. She ran towards it and hit it hard on, but the door did not break down. Then she tried again, and again, but to no avail.

     The pressure lifted and Diarmuid watched as the man was thrown aside. Diarmuid's amber eyes grew wide and he turned his head to see a bloodied Gilgamesh with a smug look on his face, "Already trying to die on me?"

     The swordsman that fell to the floor groaned as Gilgamesh helped Diarmuid up, "What happened to your face?" Diarmuid asked as he saw that there was blood trickling from the prince's brow and that his cheek was red and swollen—even his upper lip was cut.

     Gilgamesh laughed, "Some mongrel thought himself clever if he pommeled my face; I'll let you know that he is dead."

     Diarmuid blinked but turned back his attention to the man that was still coughing on the floor, which was when he noticed that the swordsman had been stabbed by Gilgamesh in the side.

     "It was a good fight," John smiled and then told them to get moving. Diarmuid gave him another smile and did as the man asked.

     Diarmuid went ahead and Gilgamesh followed close behind, the sword in his hand.

     "Shit," Diarmuid heard Gilgamesh grumble before he turned around to see Gilgamesh locking swords with a man.

     Diarmuid pushed Gilgamesh out of the way and locked weapons with the knight, "Go ahead, I will catch up later, can't have you getting killed, can I?"

     Gilgamesh laughed and pat Diarmuid's arm, "Of course!"

     Diarmuid ignored the pain in his leg and tried to clear his mind and focus on the opponent before him. He lifted Gea Dearg a little more and smirked. The fight began when Diarmuid pushed the man back with his lance and they began to attack on another.

     Ringing filled his ears every time the weapons hit one another but it was much better than the sound of slicing flesh. Diarmuid blew the unruly lock of hair away from his vision as it had been dangling in front of him.

     He grunted as he swiped his red lance across, hoping to hurt the man, but to no avail.

     The man threw another attack, but Diarmuid deflected it when he threw his lance forwards.

     The lancer took a step back as the man approached, but he dodged the oncoming blow and the man stumbled forwards.

     The man turned back, anger painted on his face and then prepared to attack once more. He attacked, but Diarmuid blocked and then launched his weapon forwards, the man also dodged.

     The Irishman was so focused on the man before him and how to possibly take him down that he was caught off guard when he heard his name being called from behind him and then the awful and dreadful sound of slicing flesh.

     "Ha, ha, mongrel," Diarmuid looked back as Gilgamesh grunted and heard the clatter of his sword falling on the ground.

     Diarmuid was stunned as he saw the man that had tried to attack him from behind completely fine, but then he noticed the stumbling Gilgamesh. He felt his heart clench and the unsettling feeling in his stomach as he felt his vision blur red. He clenched his jaw and turned around back to the man he had been fighting. He lifted his spear and hacked the man in front of him down, hitting him at the base of the neck with his lance, then he turned to the man that had tried to attack him before Gilgamesh intervened. He put as much force as he could to his last blow as he javelined the spear into the man's chest.

     "Gilgamesh," Diarmuid breathed whilst he watched Gilgamesh support himself against a pillar in the castle.

     "Do not dare give me that face, dog, I am fine." He was pale, so very pale. His hair was damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead as his red eyes had sunken in, "It is but a scratch."

     Diarmuid forced a smile and nodded, his amber gaze had landed on the other's wound. His golden chainmail was starting to soak through with blood.

    "It only hurts a tad bit." That was clearly a lie, the biggest lie Gilgamesh had told and it was a damn good one because Diarmuid had seen other comrades fall with a stab in the gut and watched as they writhed on the ground in horrid pain.

    "You are so prideful." Diarmuid laughed sorrowfully as he kept his gaze on the wound.

    Gilgamesh growled and took a handful Diarmuid's hair and pulled his head up to meet his gaze as his other hand went to pressure the wound, "My eyes are up here, asshole."

    "Thank you, Gilgamesh." Diarmuid watched as Gilgamesh's lips had gone dry and he was starting to look purple.

     The prince grunted in pain and then lifted his head up, "I will be fine, mongrel, there is no reason to say such disgusting things," he tried his very best to pull off a smug smile and chuckle, "Arturia still belongs to me. You gave her to me about a month ago, remember?"

     Diarmuid tried to laugh at the man's joke but couldn't, "Gilgamesh, I am sorry for not being able to protect you."

     "Yes, you are a horrible body guard, I will not hire you again. Cú Chulainn is much better at protecting people." His breathing was heavy, but he tried to control it so that he had more time.

     "Yes, he is."

     "Diarmuid, take care of her, will you? Treat her well, or else I promise to haunt you in your damn dreams. Oh, and apologize to Jeanne for me—I know she hates me. Other than that, I still hate you." The man coughed as the blood came out and flowed through his hands, "Now go; go get lost."

     Diarmuid shook his head, "No, I cannot leave you alone, I will be here for you."

     "Go save your brother instead; it is not as if I am going anywhere. I will be right here when you come back."

     Diarmuid stood and looked at Gilgamesh again, he could not remember the high strung prince like this. He looked so sad, so _alone_. He was dying in some far off land, away from his family and his country.

     "Diarmuid," Gilgamesh's weak voice called, it was hoarse and he was breathing much more heavily than before.

     "Yes?" The lancer turned around to meet the ruby red gaze, afraid this would be the last time he would see it.

     "You suck," the Great Golden Prince laughed.

     "Right," he cracked a smile and turned around. He kept walking and right when he turned the corner he heard the agonizing screams of Gilgamesh as he knew exactly what happened when one got stabbed that brutally through the stomach. He couldn't leave him alone.

     Diarmuid turned back around the corner and rushed to Gilgamesh. He was distraught, he never knew he would see the mighty prince trying to suppress his screams with his arms as he felt the brutal pain, "I cannot leave you alone like this."

     "You really are like a dog," Gilgamesh groaned as he gave him a smug glare, " _Loyal_."

     Diarmuid offered his arm and Gilgamesh took it with a harsh grip as he tried not to writhe and scream in pain. And after what felt like ages of screams and grunts, there was a last groan before the grip on Diarmuid's arm loosened and he watched Gilgamesh take slow and raspy breaths; as if he wanted to keep breathing, needing another breath after the ones he took.

     "Thank you, mongrel." It was the last thing Gilgamesh had said before his head hung forwards and there was silence.

     Diarmuid grit his teeth, knowing much too well, "You needn't thank me, Gilgamesh."


	40. XL

     Diarmuid had trouble leaving the Gilgamesh all alone. He watched the limp body and he still could not abandon him as if it was nothing, and thus he carried the body on his back and tried to overlook the pain in his leg. It was hard to not fall face first, but he did not want to leave Gilgamesh in such a place among other people. He stumbled through the long halls of the castle, not knowing where he was even going.

     As he walked an empty hall, he saw a door burst open and a blonde girl stumbling out at full force, not being able to stop herself from crashing against the other side of the hallway wall. He was stunned for a second or two but he made sure not to let go of Gilgamesh as he stepped back with wide orange eyes.

     The girl heaved and groaned before turning her head to Diarmuid after she had heard him take some steps. Her features softened upon seeing the man and there was a slow growing grin, "Diarmuid, is that Gilgamesh? Is he hurt?" She breathed.

     Diarmuid did not respond to Jeanne as he stepped inside of the room she had just freed herself from. That was when she noted the blood that stained Gilgamesh's armour and she hurried to Diarmuid's side to help him with the lifeless body.

     They set him down on the bed slowly and gently before they stood straight to look at the pale man, "He will survive, _right_?" Jeanne looked solemnly at the blond man. She had already felt how cold his hands were and how much his body weighed and she already knew the answer to that question—she simply denied it.

     Diarmuid gulped and shook his head, "He, um, he wanted to apologize to you, he said...he said you hated him."

     Jeanne shook her head rapidly and sat down on the bed next to the man that she wished was sleeping. She caressed his cold cheek and slowly pushed his hair back and out of his face, "I never hated you," she mumbled lowly and then took her hand back, catching a last glimpse of his face where she convinced herself that he was merely sleeping and then stood, "We should get going now, he will be safe in here."

     Diarmuid nodded slowly and followed Jeanne out the door and back into the hallways of the castle. It seemed to him as if it was more of a maze rather than a building. They closed the broken door behind themselves and Jeanne led the way to where she believed Cú Chulainn had escaped to after he had locked her in.

     Jeanne had been given Gilgamesh's golden sword because Diarmuid thought it could not be given to any other hands, and so she held onto the weapon as if it were Gilgamesh's life. Her violet eyes lifted from the sword as they continued to walk down the hallway with a frown on both their lips. They shared no words or glances; there was only silence between them.

     Two knights had seemed to emerge from out of nowhere and they were both being attacked. Diarmuid was busy fighting one of the knights to be paying attention to Jeanne but with Jeanne's possible broken arm or dislocated shoulder, she was having trouble swaying a sword and deflecting the blows of the man before her. Especially the fact that the man possessed a battle mace and not a sword, so the weight of the weapon caused her more pain.

     Diarmuid was also having quite a bit of trouble by himself as well, as his leg was still bleeding and aching with any type of pressure he permitted on it.

     Jeanne held the sword tighter as she was not ready to lose it along with her life so she soldiered on, her head held high and her attacks becoming strong enough to fend for herself but not enough to kill the man before her. Her eyes were trained on her opponent's weapon and she feared it every time it came at an alarming distance and speed.

     Her determination to move on was much stronger, though, and she had faith that she could get away quickly.

     The brown-eyed man before her threw the mace and the force he held behind the blow caused the golden sword in Jeanne's hands to drop and clatter against the floor instead of the mace. Jeanne gulped as she stepped back and tried to escape the man's gaze.

     "A little girl should not be battling." The man had a mischievous grin on his face, twisted somewhat, only blood-thirsty.

     Fear flooded Jeanne and she was frozen in place, the gaze of the man was frightening and she took a deep breath.

     She watched as the man lifted his mace within seconds and prepared to smash it against her chest, but there was a blur that crossed her vision and she saw the mace fall but not upon her, as there was a warm embrace enrapturing her and she heard the sound of armour denting and being crushed under the mace.

     Then the embrace around her dropped and her  savior turned about, a red spear in hands ready to stab the enemy. And with a little more of a hassle and fight, the red spear penetrated the enemy and the knight groaned its name, " _Gea Bolg_." Upon the command, the spear spiked out through the man in all directions and Jeanne turned her head to avoid the scene before her as blood splashed on and around them.

      Jeanne almost heaved but refrained as she also had felt the blood on her face and hands. When she finally turned her head back to the man who had saved her, she saw the broken armour and the blood staining it, "Cú Chulainn," she mumbled as she walked toward him slowly, for what had happened still had her quite shocked.

     Cú Chulainn turned around and smiled at her, "Glad to see you are safe," he mumbled between clenched teeth and she could tell that he was in pain. It was odd, the smile he forced combined with the blood that stained his face made him seem odd, so very _odd_.

     "Are you alright?" She decided it best to unbuckle the shoulder plates and breast plate from his chest. Her fingers were already on the buckle when he took her hand with his right, as his left shoulder was the one that was injured.

     Cú Chulainn nodded, the smile still on his face, "I am alright, it is best not to remove it."

     She furrowed her brows and shook her head, "No, you have to take it off, you cannot have that much weight on your shoulder after such a blow." Her gaze was trained on the man's red eyes as anywhere else she looked it was causing chills to form all over her body.

     "And you were supposed to listen to me, Jeanne, I had told you to stay put." He gave her a sideways glance before turning back to his brother, who had managed on his own and taken down the other opponent.

     "Jeanne is right, Cú, we should take it off." Diarmuid reasoned as well, agreeing whole heartedly with the blonde lady.

     Cú Chulainn shook his head, "Not while we are still in danger, do you want me to die?" He laughed and the other two hung their heads silently, " _What_? What happened?" He spoke with harsh tone due to his injury once he noted that his joke was taken too much to heart.

     Diarmuid shook his head and walked past them and instead carried on to find Arturia, soon followed by Jeanne and Cú Chulainn.

     "I know that you're much stronger than this." The voice of Guinevere filled the room and Arturia gulped.

     "I will not use my strength against you, Guinevere, please, let us stop this," Arturia couldn't let her friend slip past her like this. She needed to have that reassurance that Guinevere should not be killed, that she should not die.

     Guinevere held the sword much tighter that her knuckles turned white, "Arturia, stop with this _nonsense_. We have to fight each other now." Her sword was lifted in an attack and quickly clashed against Arturia's.

     Arturia took a step back and then rounded the other female. Guinevere was quick to get back at attacking and managed to go for Arturia's legs, but the blonde jumped to the side, letting the other follow through and eventually hit the floor.

     Guinevere stood, the black dress fanning around her, its soft fabric covering the carpet below her.

     "Please," Arturia tried again, still keeping some sort of hope in her heart or mind.

     The brunette stood with a grunt and attacked again, "Stop it!" She growled as Arturia deflected her sword again, "Stop it!"

     There was clear pain in Guinevere's brown eyes as she stared at Arturia with an angry expression. Arturia finally understood that her friend was not there anymore. She took a gulp and opted for an attack, she had been on the defence for too long now.

     The sound that the sword made filled the room as they both attacked one another quickly. Arturia launched her sword forward but Guin swerved it away from herself, not letting the blade get to her.

     Their swords clashed over and over and they were both starting to tire as none of the girls was giving up. They fought for a while until they were both out of breath and Guinevere huffed, her chest rising and falling within her corset and Arturia rolled her shoulders.

     They were silent for a while until Arturia spoke, "Give up, Guinevere, I promise that your son will not be harmed. I promise to give him a title, Guin, please."

     "No! I cannot give up now, after all I have done!" Guinevere yelled before attacking Arturia again, being able to nearly catch her neck, but successful enough to cut some of the golden strands.

     Arturia's green eyes were wide as she blinked. Then she tried to get the sword out of Guinevere's grasp so that they could reason things out.

     The swords clashed again and Arturia pulled back, swinging her sword to her right and almost catching Guinevere, but being slow enough for the other to block with a simple flick of her wrist.

     Guinevere flirted the weapon forward and was able to hit Arturia's armour but not enough to break through it. Arturia grabbed the blade with her protected hand and then pulled on it so that the other female would let it go.

     The sword slipped from Guinevere's hands and she watched as it was thrown  across the room by Arturia and she lifted her own sword to Guinevere's neck.

     Guinevere straightened her back and glared at her, "Kill me." She grit her teeth, "Go ahead, I know you want to get your revenge."

     Arturia started to lower her Holy Sword and shook her head, "Guinevere, please, let us talk."

     Guinevere took the point and pressed it gently against her neck, not enough to draw blood though, "Just _kill_ me."

     "What about your son? Do you want to leave him all alone?" Arturia began to glare at her, "You say that you want the best for him, yet you want to die and leave him all alone? His father is gone, Guinevere! You want him to grow up without a mother as well?"

     Guinevere's gaze softened and she slowly slid to the floor, "How will I know that you will not go back on your word to let me live—after all that I have done to you?" Her dark brown gaze lifted to look Arturia in the eyes.

     Arturia fell to the floor in front of her as well, and then she gave a smile, "A knight never goes back on their word." She extended her hand towards her friend and then a scream erupted. It sounded distant, but so very near as well. She watched as Guinevere stood from the floor and hurried to where the wet nurse had disappeared off to for it seemed that it was where the sound originated.

     Arturia quickly followed, leaving her sword behind until they reached another room; a nursery. There was no wet nurse anymore, but Arturia caught a glimpse of a baby in the cradle.

     Guinevere looked around, the light of the setting sun leaking into the nursery and illuminating the cradle. She slowly walked towards it, her heart feeling heavy and fear in her mind. Her dress followed behind her as she reached the cradle and then her knees gave away. The sight was too much for her, she could barely stand in shock. Her screams filled the room hauntingly and Arturia was shocked.

     The blonde ran to the cradle and looked down at the baby, a lily placed in his mouth and his face so tender and sad. The screams of Guinevere were soon joined by the castle bell and she knew it called for a retreat.

     Arturia looked down at Guinevere who was trying her best to stand, and upon doing so, she launched at Arturia, an object in her hands and knocking Arturia off her feet and to the floor.

     "This was all _your_ fault!" Guinevere held a candle holder that she had probably picked off the floor or from a nightstand and was ready to smash it down against Arturia's head, but she was able to move her head out in time. Guinevere held her collar in one hand and sat on her chest as she was trying to hit her.

     The blonde barely found any strength to get away from the furious woman. In fact, she could barely move even as the other screamed and tried to hit her with the candle holder. The object kept being smashed down, missing her by a few centimeters every time. It even cut her cheek with the sharp edge once as the tile beneath her was being shattered with every hit.

     "How could you kill my son? _You murdered him_! This is all your fault!" The brunette woman kept on screaming and trying to hit the one below with the candle holder.

     "Guinevere, stop it! I did not do it!" Arturia yelled back and was able to knock the candle stick off with her hand. They rolled about the floor and Guinevere had the upper hand again, landing punches on Arturia this time around since it seemed that the candle holder was not doing any damage.

     Guinevere took the other by the collar and began to lift her head to smash it onto the floor but the door of the nursery burst open and Arturia could see Guinevere being pulled off of her. The brunette screamed and kicked so that the people would let her go.

      Arturia realized that the people holding Guinevere down were Diarmuid and Jeanne, who had been looking everywhere for the source of the screaming and came in to see Arturia getting beaten by Guinevere. Cú Chulainn had trickled in, holding his arm in place as he walked towards her. She noticed the absence of Gilgamesh but did not speak for she heaved and slowly set her head down on the floor, her eyes trained on the decorated ceiling of the nursery.

     Painted clouds and angels scattered the ceiling and she closed her eyes shut.


	41. XLI

     Arturia walked through the hallways of the dungeon. The battle had finished about a week ago and she was instituted as Prince Royale until the mourning period was over and she would be crowned. The castle was going under repairs and the Mass for the people lost from both sides had just been celebrated. In fact, it had been celebrated an hour prior but the Knights of the round had held a meeting to discuss what was to happen with Guinevere.

     It was hard to calm her people down after the battle, but many bowed before her upon seeing the golden sword in her hands. Merlin announced her before the people, and many others agreed with her rule. After all, whoever held the sword was the heir of Uther and the one to bring Camelot to its glory days. There were some that questioned a woman's rule, but they were silent about it, probably hoping to find the right time to go against her.

    She held a torch in her right hand as her left lifted the dress from the dusty floor. She finally reached the dungeon she had been looking for and then she looked inside, seeing Guinevere in her very own black dress. She was sitting by a corner of the cell with her arms over her chest and a frown on her lips.

     "Arturia... why do you find yourself in such a...horrid place?" Guinevere lifted her head upon seeing the new shadows cast by the torch.

     Arturia's face was still bruised and she landed her eyes on the woman on the other side of the bars, "Guinevere... I come to bring you news about your sentence."

     The brunette glared at her and shrugged, "The people demand bloodshed, I am well aware of that."

     Arturia frowned, "And I promised I would not go back on my word. I will have you exiled and under house arrest in a villa well away from Camelot, I will set the arrangements as soon as possible."

     Guinevere shook her head, "I, however, do not need your pity. I have nothing else to live for, Arturia, I must show my face to the people one last time, and never will I drop my head and leave with my tail between my legs. I will die one day, and I might as well die in Camelot where my son passed...Camelot is where my life began and where it shall end."

     Arturia was silent as she looked at her, "If that is what you wish, so be it." She wasn't going to lie, she did not want Guinevere to go under even more pain. It was hard losing a child, and now she was losing her life as well.

     "When will the execution will be held?" Guinevere was still glaring at the woman in front of her, there was some belief that it was all Arturia's fault even though she fully knew that this would not have occurred had she not tried to murder the heir.

     "In a week's time." Arturia held a monotone and tried to seem indifferent.

     "So it shall be. Now go and pay tribute to those fallen knights, let their king see them off to heaven. Would you not rather do that than talk to the likes of me?"

     Arturia found herself standing at the balcony after leaving her friend in the dungeon, silently watching as the center of the castle courtyard was filled with people and a stand was placed in the midst of it all. She wore a black dress and a black veil over her face. She blinked a few times as a hand landed on her black-lace-covered hand and she looked over to see Diarmuid also dressed in black. He squeezed her hand as they both looked back down at the pile of logs and a few cloaks but most importantly—golden armour.

     A knight with a torch in hands slowly approached the stand, but she raised her hand before the man could lay it down by the branches.

     "Let us not continue to build our kingdom on bloodshed. Let us remember all those who can no longer see their loved ones; for those brave men, sons, brothers and _friends._ May they go in peace," she announced, her voice cracking a bit when she thought of Gilgamesh.

     She lowered her hand and the torch started the fire. She heard the cries of her people as they mourned their loved ones and she kept her eyes on the shiny armour of Gilgamesh. She had had a stone coffin made for him and he was already resting beside her father and amongst all the other royals of Camelot.

     Her green eyes remained on the armour as the flames engulfed it and she watched in silence, squeezing Diarmuid's hand in return as the flames rose higher into the sky. They stood still, barely moving and then she hesitantly retracted her hand when the flames had died out, silently retreating to her chambers.

     Diarmuid did not insist though, he knew she wanted to be alone at the moment.

     Cú Chulainn lay sleeping as Jeanne knelt near the bed, mumbling _Ave Maria_ 's and feeling the wooden beads under her thumb. The man next to her had been sleeping for a few hours now since he had had too much blood loss and was still recovering. He woke up every now and again but would soon fall asleep.

     The Frenchwoman had helped with treating his wound and she was still keeping watch of him, making sure that he would be fine and he would soon awaken and for a longer time.

     It was a grunt that had caught her attention and she lifted her gaze from the rosary in her hands to the man before her, "Cú Chulainn?" She furrowed her brows.

     He turned his head towards her with a groan and then managed a smiled, "Hello little lass." He smirked, "Don't tell me you were hoping for me to die."

     Jeanne's pale lips stretched into a smile, "I would never." She quickly stood and took a goblet of water from the nightstand next to the man, "How are you feeling?"

     Cú Chulainn chuckled but quickly regretted that decision when he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder blade, "I feel like shit."

     The blonde lady giggled and shook her head, "No swearing, mister, but I will get something for your pain." She handed him the water and turned on her heel.

     "Thank you, Jeanne," Cú Chulainn called and watched as the woman turned to look at him, a smile on her lips.

     She took a deep breath and nodded, "I should be the one thanking you," the smile stretched on her lips a little more, "I will be right back."

     Cú Chulainn was left to himself as he took a deep breath and tried to avoid the pain that emitted from his arm, it was a miracle that he could still move it or even feel it because if he was not wearing the shoulder plate, he would have most likely lost his arm. He sat up slowly and watched the door, hoping that Jeanne would soon return.

     Upon the arrival of the smiling Jeanne, he felt calmer and a smile snaked onto his lips, "Well, I brought you some food and medicine that Merlin prepared for you. Hopefully most of the pain will go away."

     "Why can he not simply heal me as he did with Arturia? It is much simpler and I do not have to be in bed forever until it naturally heals."

     Jeanne frowned and then shrugged, "I feel that no magic is the best option for your arm. I do not exactly approve of magic, and so it is best to keep you away from that."

     The Hound of Ulster eyed her as she set the food on the nightstand and paid attention to her words. He blinked and nodded, "Why so?"

     Jeanne bit her cheek and smiled, "I simply do not trust magic."

     He slowly sat up and did not let his gaze slip from hers for even a sliver of a second, "Why do you not?"

     The woman took a deep breath and then turned back to the table and fixed the things on top of it, "I do not like to speak of it. I am sure that there are things that you do not like to speak of your past and I respect that, I would be grateful if you respect mine."

     Cú Chulainn was silent and finally let his gaze drift away from Jeanne. He understood what she meant, but he caught her uneasiness and freight. He wanted her to tell him, but he would respect her decision nonetheless.

     He hesitantly slipped out of the bed and walked towards her. Jeanne had not been paying attention to the man until an arm was wrapped around her waist. He held her close and mumbled, "I am glad that you are fine." He then let go of her and slowly made his way back to the bed.

     Jeanne had not moved an inch, her cheeks were dusted with a blush and she just stood still trying to somehow think about what had occurred, processing if his actions had meant anything.

     It took Cú Chulainn a few days to finally make the decision that they were to return to Hibernia and he thought it best to mention it during dinner. He looked over at his brother and gave a smile before lifting some food to his mouth, "Brother," he spoke.

     "Yes?" Diarmuid turned his head towards his big brother and returned the smile.

     Cú's smile dropped solemnly and he took a deep breath before proceeding to speak, "I think it best we return. We must bring back news of Gilgamesh..."

     Diarmuid's smile faded and he shook his head, "They will kill me, Gilgamesh has died in my hands—I have _ruined_ Connacht." He felt remorseful and quiet afraid of what was to come. He should have locked Gilgamesh in a safe place like Cú had done with Jeanne.

     "It was Gilgamesh's choice, Diarmuid." A voice interrupted them and they shot their heads towards said voice. Merlin stood by the door and lifted a letter in his hands. They could see a certain seal on it, Gilgamesh' crest stamped upon the envelope.

     "What is that?" Diarmuid sat straight and pushed the platter of food away from himself. If there was a possibility that Gilgamesh left something behind, Diarmuid would make sure to personally deliver it to wherever it needed to be sent—even if it meant travelling all the way to Uruk.

     Merlin lifted the paper to show the seal clearly and shrugged, "Gilgamesh knew what was going to happen to him. I warned him very well of the dangers he would face and he accepted everything."

     " _You are telling me that if I go, I will die?" Gilgamesh crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the chair, "Is this a threat of some sort, frankly I do not remember asking for you to humor me."_

     " _There is no need for me to be threatening you as we are on the same side. Someone will die during the battle, if you go it will be you to die by a sword. If you stay, it will be Diarmuid." Merlin stood still in front of the man._

_Gilgamesh seemed to bite his lip and gulped, "How will I die if I do not attend the battle?"_

_The wizard closed his eyes and began to speak, "I do not know how you will perish, but I see your people mourning and burying you in the river bed of Euphrates."_

     " _And what of my father?" The golden haired prince was quick to ask._

     " _He has been long gone." The violet eyes of the young man were still closed as he tried to get an insight of the future._

     " _My brother?"_

_Another cold response came, "Died years earlier."_

_Gilgamesh frowned and opened his mouth to speak again, "Do I have an heir?"_

     " _Yes, you will also build walls to protect your people... You will be a great king."_

_Gilgamesh stayed silent and then spoke again, "How will Uruk be if I die? How will my little brother's rule be? Will he too be a great king and protect our people?"_

_Merlin opened his eyes and looked at him, "I will not know unless you die. Will you take the risk of letting your little brother rule?"_

_Gilgamesh stood from the chair and walked to a desk, he picked up a quill and began to write down something, "I must honour my Kingdom even abroad. If I perish, Uruk will be held with high regards here in Camelot and all of Logres, Alba, and Hibernia. My people will thank me and mourn. I will not be known as a petty and snobby prince, but as a battle hero if need be."_

_Merlin took a deep breath and nodded, "Are you willing to lay down your life for Diarmuid?"_

_Gilgamesh kept silent for a while and then turned his head towards the wizard and away from his paper, "We will have to see if that mongrel deserves it," he smirked and drifted his attention back to what it was that he was writing._

     " _A letter to your kingdom?" Gilgamesh heard the voice of Merlin as he continued to write, he gave a short nod and then turned back to the young wizard._

_He lifted his head and sealed it with the stamp of his seal then passed it to Merlin, "If I do fall in battle, I wish for Diarmuid to deliver this letter to my father."_

     Diarmuid stood with the letter in his hands, he took a deep breath and looked back upon the castle gardens that had been destroyed due to the battle. Birds were still chirping and the sky was bright blue for the spring afternoon. The dark-haired man slowly stepped down the stairs as he witnessed the lady in black walking about the gardens.

     He gulped as he felt his heart clench in his chest and shook off the odd feeling before continuing his way towards her, "Milady," he set a smile on his lips as he called to her.

     The blonde turned towards the noise and watched as Diarmuid walked towards her. She gave an unintentional smile as she slowly slid off her black lace gloves, "Diarmuid."

     The man stopped in front of her and made sure to pay attention to her features. It was hard to see her face clearly through the veil that clung in front of her, but he paid attention to her nonetheless. Her green eyes were lifeless and disappointed; their corners red and glossed over as if she had been crying.

     Diarmuid hesitantly lifted his hand and reached for her veil, "May I?" His voice was soft as it was taken away by the warm spring breeze. He lifted the veil after she gave a nod of approval and then let his eyes settle on hers.

     She looked up at him in silence and all that made noise was the breeze and the birds. He was close to her and it made her heart skip a beat and her cheeks burn.

     "I wanted to speak with you about urgent matters," the man did not let his eyes linger on her pale lips too much as he was becoming drawn to them and he would probably end up leaning closer and landing a kiss upon them.

     Arturia's eyes grew a small fraction and she opened her mouth, "Urgent matters?"

     Diarmuid smiled sorrowfully and rubbed the back of his neck, "I must leave."

     He watched as her brows knitted together and her lips pursed into a frown, "What do... uhm, what do you mean by that?"

     "I would have liked to see your coronation, but alas, I must travel to Uruk and bring news of... Gilgamesh."

     Arturia dropped her face and nodded, "I-I see, I will want to write a personal letter to Uruk myself." She was silent for a while afterwards, "Uruk is quite far, no?"

     Diarmuid gave a nod, "Past Byzantine."

     "When will you be departing?" Her head lifted to meet his gaze, somehow wishing he would not leave for a while longer.

     He ran a hand through his hair, "This evening."

     She nodded again and walked past him, "Very well, I wish you all the best and I will have the letter delivered for you later in the day when I have finished it."

     Diarmuid felt uncomfortable and frowned at the cold behaviour that Arturia had demonstrated. He turned around to watch her as she left the gardens and sought refuge back in the castle. He let out a loud breath that he had forgotten he was holding and kicked the grass below him. It seemed that she did not fancy him after all.

     A page had come and gone long ago to hand him the letter that Arturia had written for Uruk. He prepared the essentials and chatted with his brother as he did so. Cú Chulainn had offered to see him off along with Jeanne but Diarmuid told them that it was quite alright and that his older brother did not need to stress himself out just to say goodbye for a few weeks.

     The Irishman swung the satchel over his shoulders and readied his lances before exiting the room that had been given to him for his stay. He made his way through the silent hallways of the castle and slowly headed for the stables after exiting the palace.

     He looked back at the castle and smiled, "Goodbye."

     He was being led to where his horse was currently kept by a stable boy and it was a gentle voice that stopped both of them. Diarmuid turned back to see Arturia jogging up to them, "I was afraid you had probably left already without bidding a farewell."

     Diarmuid felt his chest swell and he laughed nervously, "Milady, you caught me."

     Arturia gave him a disappointed frown and turned to the stable boy, "You are excused. I will take this man to where he needs to go."

     The young boy gave a quick nod and a deep bow before excusing himself formally and leaving.

     "Diarmuid..." Her tone of voice was serious as her head tilted up to look at the sky whilst they walked towards the stables, "We must speak before you leave." She stopped in her tracks in front of the stables and he stopped soon after.

     "Milady?" Diarmuid furrowed his brows and blinked down upon her.

     "I suggest we clear things up before you leave," her heart was thumping loudly in her chest and she feared he would be able to hear it. Her cheeks dusted pink and she bit her lower lip, her eyelids fluttered to a close and she opened her mouth to speak again, "I have thought about it, although there has not been much time. I have cleared my mind and...and..." She felt her heart in her throat and ears, her cheeks were burning and she was thankful that the sun had set early and it was dark. Her throat was dry and her hands clinging to her black dress tightly.

     "I fear that I do not yet understand, milady." He knew what she wanted to speak about but he was afraid that she would say something that would make his heart twist in pain.

     "Diarmuid, my mind is telling me that it is time and my heart seems to have no rationality." She managed to speak, "It is true, I love Lancelot."

     "Agh," Diarmuid scratched the back of his head and already felt his heart drop, "I-um, I guess that I understand."

     Arturia shook her head as her hands trembled and she held the dress much tighter, "You do not. I-I love Lancelot, yes, but as a dear friend who taught me so much. I will respect him so, but I have realized that my heart wants to love again and my mind agrees for once. Although I am scared, I think that I can...trust you... with, um...uh, with my heart."

     Diarmuid could now see the red on Arturia's cheeks and nose. A smile grew on his lips and he tilted his head, "You do realize what you are saying, milady, yes?"

     She nodded, "Yes, I am saying that I think I have come to have feelings for you. Whether it is love or not, I want to be able to be with you to understand my feelings fully." Her eyes had fallen from his and she was looking somewhere else as to not embarrass herself.

     Diarmuid took a step closer to her and lifted her head with his hand. He gently directed her gaze back to him and smiled, "I will return to you, milady, I promise to keep true to only you." He slipped his hand into hers and brought it to his lips. He landed a tender kiss on the back of her hand and smiled at her.

     She gulped trying to gulp down her heart for it had somehow traveled up to her throat. Arturia slowly nodded and noticed that Diarmuid too was blushing, "I do very much hope so. I heard that the women there were beautiful, I do hope that you will not glance at them when they flirt with you because of that beauty mark."

     Diarmuid let out a chuckle and nodded, "And Gilgamesh had said that you were far more gorgeous than any of them. If there is one thing that Gilgamesh ever had right was his eye for treasures."

     She solemnly smiled, "Send me news as soon as you arrive and tell me about Uruk and Gilgamesh's family when you return."

     "I promise to write to you every day, whether eventful or not," he smiled.

     Arturia lifted her arms and pulled the blue ribbon that held her hair in place. Her golden hair fell from the bun and a lock of it remained as a braid. She took Diarmuid's hand and wrapped the ribbon around it, "Take it with you and think of me. Those are my colours and it means that you must return in one piece and be victorious."

     Diarmuid nodded and lifted his hand and landed it on her cheek. He lifted her face and placed a kiss on her forehead, "Until we meet again, milady."

     She landed her own hand on his and leaned into his touch, "Until then, my knight."

     His hand slid from her grip and he turned around and walked into the stable. She watched him silently and smiled. She did not know when he would return, but she hoped to see him soon. She watched him mount his mare and wink down at her.

     Arturia lifted her hand and waved at him as she watched him leave. Her heart was pounding but hurting too. She smiled nonetheless and continued to wave.

     Guinevere wore a black dress, she was able to dress herself nicely with the help of Arturia. Guards ushered her to the courtyard and they shoved her up to an elevated platform. She held her head held high and glanced up Arturia, who stood at the balcony, dressed in black again—black was not a good colour for the young lady, Guinevere thought to herself.

     The executioner set her on top of a log and walked around her in order to tie her hands together. The crowd was throwing harsh words at the woman on the log but she was not hearing them, as her eyes were trained on the future king of Camelot. Silence fell into the crowd as the noose was placed around her neck.

     Guinevere smiled gently up at Arturia and mouthed some words that Arturia was not able to read and then a white fabric bag was placed over her head, covering her view of the bright sunny sky and the last day she was able to see.

     Arturia turned her head as the executioner began to get ready to push the log from the woman's feet. Then the horrid sound filled the crowd before they all cheered. Arturia turned away disgusted, she entered her chambers and slowly walked to the bed, where she sat down silently.

     "It was meant to be," Morgana sighed, she stood by her window as she watched Guinevere's body go limp, holding the baby close to herself, "Your mommy is gone, and I could not have her holding onto something. I promise to keep you safe, though." The child was weeping and Morgana tried to cradle it.

     Morgana closed the white curtain and walked back to her bed with little Arthur in her arms. The baby in the room a week ago was an illusion she was able to make and the real baby was safe, "Mordred must be your new name." She hushed the little child and held it close to her bosom so that his cries would be replaced with steady breaths.

     She sat on her bed and cradled the baby in her arms slowly, so that he would soon calm down, "You shall be great, Mordred, just like your mother had wanted." _ **  
**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Author's Note~
> 
> Hello everyone! This is the end of the story! Congrats! You've just read approx. 100,000 words :) I cannot believe that this is actually the end of my FanFiction. Thank you all for the amazing support that you guys gave me! This has been a tough, tough story to write and I've had to go through tough times throughout it, but I am so very glad that I have made it this far. Thank you all so much for everything! The comments, the Kudos. I am so very happy that you all like this fic and have read it up to this point. Thank you so much! I would like to thank you all! All my reviewers and silent readers, you all made my day when you reviewed or kudo'd.
> 
> This story was such a pleasure to write (most of the time haha) and I honestly think that this story sucks sometimes but you all prove me wrong with all the love that you give me and my story. Thank you everyone! There will be a sequel that I will upload soon~!
> 
> It really means a lot to me that you guys reviewed and read this story! I love you all so much! It's been a crazy time and yay! Thank you so much! I'm so glad that a lot of people were happy and even read it!
> 
> Sincerely with love, for the last time on Fate/Stained Knight,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb~


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